


Of Constellations & Creeds

by ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa



Category: Pedro Pascal - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Metaphysics, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, Power Couple, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa/pseuds/ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa
Summary: Everyone loves the Alpha and Omega Fated Mates for Life troupe so, what if The Mandalorians were a society of Alphas, a dying race because your sisterhood of Omegas are becoming more and more rare by the day? You and Din were mated before you were born, your futures written in the stars–and that pissed you off, both of you. At least in the beginning. (This is my spite fic to prove ABO can be non-toxic--it updates on Sundays!)
Relationships: Din Djarin & Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 438
Kudos: 1194





	1. Kismet

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know who I am anymore. Y'all have fucking ruined me. I also need a mental break from my Oberyn fic for a few days. And I know a lot of you would pay in blood to have this done properly, so I am going to try my damnedest. Everyone loves the Alpha and Omega Fated Mates for Life troupe so, what if The Mandalorians were a society of Alphas, a dying race because your sisterhood of Omegas are becoming more and more rare by the day? You and Din were mated before you were born, your futures written in the stars–and that pissed you off, both of you. At least in the beginning.

“You can’t bring me in cold.”

“I didn’t say that was an option.”

The two of you stared at one another breathing heavily. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew they were just as tired as yours were. You had been at it for what felt like an eternity. Punching, kicking, cursing, and beating each other in the dirt and heat of the sun–both of you refusing to relent, refusing to let the other one win. He broke the silence first.

“Don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything. You can walk away at any time.” You stood back up to your full height, twirling your staff slowly in your hand as you began the dance again. One, two, three. One, two, three. One foot over the other, careful to never take your eyes off of the threat in front of you.

He heaved a sigh and followed your lead. You heard his shoulder crack as he jerked it back into place and walked the slow circle opposite of you. Why did he have to come? Everything was fine in your corner of the Galaxy. You were happy. You had your sisters, your family, the Matriarch–and then you became of age and he showed up. The thought that you were the reason he was here made bile rise and burn your throat. It made you sick.

He mirrored your staff with the long gun that he had hastily flung across his back. You were fairly certain his rifle was out of bullets, but it’s not that it mattered. He didn’t want to kill you. A dead Omega was a worthless Omega.

“If I come back empty handed, then I won’t be allowed to stay.” He said unclipping his cape from his pauldrons and letting it drop to the ground with a soft thud. “I only get to go home when the job is done.”

“That’s not my problem.” Your tone was venomous but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t show up to talk. His intentions were not diplomatic in any way. You knew the stories. You had heard the tales. You had known other women ripped from their homes by his people–he was here to kidnap you. And that, you just couldn’t allow.

With a yell, you ran at him like a charging mudhorn. A loud clack rang out in the meadow as your staff collided with the body of his rifle. Clack! Twist! Thud! Clack! You used your anger to meet him blow for blow. He was stoic, poised, and composed as he blocked each hit one right after the other. He was stronger, bigger, and better trained. And it pissed you off even more. 

“Your anger is making you make mistakes. I could have had you three moves ago,” he grunted, using his rifle to forcibly shove you away from him.

“Then do it!” You cried, your frustration building as he stood in front of you. His life wasn’t the one at stake. His world wasn’t the one about to be taken from him. How dare he get to stand there and be so calm about this? To think he was able to lecture you on your fighting techniques of all things. 

He moved to strike you with the butt of his gun and you dodged the blow. You slid through the dirt under the reach of his arm and cracked him across the shoulder blades with your staff. It caused him to crumple, going down on one knee. You went for him again but he saw it coming, raising his fist and colliding it with your nose. Your eyes watered instantly and you rolled away from him while you waited for your vision to clear. Your hand flew to your nose and felt the bone–it wasn’t broken. A small victory that you took graciously. 

He moved to pin you while you were on your back and you kicked both your legs up, your feet catching him in the chest and using the strength of your core to flip him over your head and into the dirt. 

You scrambled to your feet, eyeing your staff several feet away from you, but the Mandalorian was too fast. His large hand grabbed your ankle and jerked you, causing you to trip. You gasped as you hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. A trickle of blood started to slide down from your hairline and you groaned in pain, relearning how to breathe normally. 

“(Y/n),” he said gently, breathing hard and crawling towards you.

No. He didn’t get to use your name. He didn’t even know you. The first time you met had been hours ago and you had spent the majority of it having him chase you through the jungle.

With a grit of your teeth, you lunged at him, taking him to the ground with your thighs around his neck. He gripped them, digging his fingers into your flesh as you let yourself fall to the side and squeeze your knees together to restrict his airways. He gasped and thrashed, his blunt nails leaving red marks on your thighs as you bared down and screamed at him.

“Say you’ll leave!” When he didn’t answer you drove your elbow into his ribs. “Say it!”

“I…will…”

You squeezed again. “Promise me! Swear by your precious oath that this will be the last time I see you on this planet!”

“S-stop,” he gasped out and you wished you could take off his helmet and see his face as he realized you had bested him. “I’ll leave." 

You gave him another pile drive to the abdomen, hoping with any luck you had at least cracked one of his ribs. Maybe when he limped back to his ship to nurse his wounds the pain would remind him not to fuck with your people. He grunted and gasped as you released his neck from the vice of your thighs and got to your feet. 

You picked up your staff, dusting the dirt from your bare arms and finally allowing yourself to feel the throbbing in the back of your head. Damn, he did a number on you. But it didn’t matter, you had won. And when the prize was your freedom, victory tasted pretty sweet.

"I’ll leave,” he repeated, pulling a pistol from the pelt on his side. “But I’m taking you with me.”

His words felt like a rock in your gut, and before you could turn around to see what he meant, he squeezed the trigger. A thin grappling coil, similar in size to a fishing line, shot from the end of the pistol and swung around your right calf multiple times. He jerked backwards and a stream of blue lightning jumped down the cable and spread over you body. You fell to the ground, stiff as a board as the electric energy pulsed through your muscles and seemed to freeze them in time. Stun gun. Fuck.

Your heart pounded, your mind raced, and you screamed as he hurried over to you and flipped you onto your back to check the extent of your injuries. 

“You’re okay,” he said, but it was almost as if he was trying to reassure himself as much as he was trying to reassure you. He hesitantly wiped the dirt from your face with a gloved hand. 

“Don’t touch me,” you grit your teeth and looked up at him, only able to move your eyes and speak. You knew you looked wild and you willed his death with your eyes as he looked you over for any other immediate injuries. “You cheated.” You spat, drawing a shaky breath and looking up at the sky trying to force yourself not to cry. Was this the last time you would see the skies of home?

“I wasn’t aware there were rules,” was his retort as he dug in the small rucksack at his waist.

“Most people I know don’t think it’s honorable to shoot someone in the baCK–” you bit your lip and cried out as the wire around your leg pulsed another wave of electricity through your body. 

The Mandalorian cursed quietly under his breath and reached down, deactivating the stun gun and jerking the wire from your calf. He reeled it in. The gun fit back into its proper place at his side and he went back to rummaging in his sack. When you saw he pulled out a pair of wrist cuffs, you fought harder to keep the panic from welling up inside of you. You refused to beg. You had never begged for anything in your life. And like hell you were going to start with someone like him. But what other choice did you have?

“Please don’t do this,” you whispered to the sky above you. A tear slid down from the corner of your eye and you hated yourself for allowing it. You hated yourself even more when you felt his gloved finger against your temple catching the droplet, and you knew he had seen it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, careful to keep his voice flat. 

All the stories you had been told since you were a child had said that the Mandalorians were heartless. That ever since the Infection their sense of honor and creed had been warped into something else entirely. And as he snapped the metal restraints on your wrists you realized the stories had been true. 

He stood up, adjusted his rucksack back where it belonged across his back. He looked around before spotting his cape on the ground, pulling it back over his shoulders and redoing the clasps on his pauldrons. You watched him silently, eyes following his every move as he readied himself before the journey back to the ship. The muscles in your back twitched painfully and you swallowed a whimper–he had seen enough weakness from you already. You finally had to look away as he picked up your staff and you heard the distinct sound of him bringing it to his knee and cracking it in half before tossing it into the reeds at the swamp’s edge.

Heavy footfalls sounded by your head, but you kept looking at the clouds. Maybe a flaming meteor would crash suddenly and strike you both down–that would have been a relief. 

He used the cuffs as a handle and pulled you into a sitting position, stooping slightly to put a strong arm under your knees and back. 

“You know, with your help I could probably find the ship before nightfall.” He said, expectation in his voice.

“Not a chance,” you said coldly.

He sighed before adjusting you in his arms and walking towards the edge of the woods. He had chased you for hours before the final showdown in the meadow. The ship would be quite a walking distance away–double that if he had to carry your paralyzed body the whole time. But that wasn’t your problem. As the sun set off to the west, you planned on making this as difficult as possible for him–once you could move your limbs.


	2. Fire Meet Gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Yeah I did that. I named it that. Fight me. Camping and heartache. Exposition, Exposition, background info, setting everything up.

The effects from the stun gun wore off eventually, although when then Mandalorian tried to put you on your feet, you may have exaggerated walking like a newborn foal causing him to scoop you back up and continue on the path. Let him carry you a little longer, it both slowed down his journey and served him right. You watched as he went the wrong direction three times and bit your lip to keep yourself from grinning too obviously. 

“We should make camp,” he said flatly as the sun has started to hang low in the sky.

“Okay.” You kept your voice curt and short, not caring what he did. You were just along for the ride until you figured out a way to escape. 

He sat you down on a fallen log in a small clearing in the middle of the woods and you looked around. You had a vague sense of where you were, and given enough of a head start you were certain you would be able to find your way back to the village, but that was just it, you needed a distraction first. 

“Cozy,” you commented as he carried a couple of large sticks from the edge of the clearing and dropped them a few feet in front of you.

“If you would assist me,” his voice crackled through the modulator as he stopped down and started arranging the logs. “We wouldn’t have to be spending the night out here.”

“You’re telling me out of all of those gadgets you don’t have a map?” You raised your still cuffed hands and pointed to his suit. He looked at you and even without seeing his face you could feel his annoyance with you. “That’s a shame.”

“You don’t have to be difficult.” He looked away from you then and grabbed a few large stones to create a border between the grass and the small hole he dug for the fire. 

You threw your head back and laughed bitterly. “Difficult?” He was unbelievable. You had heard the Mandalorians were a group of self-righteous extremists but this took the cake. “You’re the one kidnapping me. Do you remember that? Or did I hit you on the head too hard?”

“Neither of us have a choice." 

"Oh, I have a choice–” you swallowed hard and shook your head. “I made up my mind a long time ago that I wouldn’t be subjected to this fated bullshit. That I wouldn’t take the chance of bearing a daughter that has to live her life just as afraid as I have been. No,” you glared at him for as long as you could before you tore your gaze away and looked at the ground. “The cycle ends with me.”

The Mandalorian looked at you, tilting his helmet slightly to the side as if he couldn’t figure you out. It made you uncomfortable to say the least, feeling like you were under his meticulous scrutiny caused you to break his gaze and look off into the woods. You glance at him through your peripheral vision as he gets up and starts digging in his pack. He pulls a small canteen of water and you lick your lips unconsciously remembering how parched you were from running through the forest for most of the day, and getting your ass handed to you in the quarry. 

“Here.” He holds out the container and you glance from it up to him. 

“I’m fine,” you say with pursed lips, letting your stubbornness get the better of you. 

“I insist.” His tone was flat and non-negotiable. It made you raise your cuffed wrists up slowly and take the container from his hands. 

His gloved fingertips brushed your own and it felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the world around you. Your heart started beating harder against your ribs, the hair on the back of your neck stood up, and everything inside of you was screaming to lean into him. How could a man that you already held such disdain for feel so familiar? It was as if your body knew his without ever having met–and you hated him for it. You took the canteen and leaned back against the fallen log with a huff, not bothering to thank him. 

He nodded. If that was as much as you were going to cooperate, then that would be good enough for now. “Stay here,” he pointed towards the ground. “I’m going to try and find us something to eat before it gets too dark.”

“And where exactly am I going to go?” You said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you raised your hand and wagged your bound wrists in front of him. 

“Oh, I’m sure that wouldn’t stop you.”

The two of you stared at one another and you hoped beyond all hope that he couldn’t feel how badly you wanted to touch him. It was embarrassing. He was the enemy. And yet you had heard this would happen, that whatever force in the universe that had decided the two of you were supposed to be together was going to try and do so by force. Whatever stars were created with your names written on them was going to make it abundantly clear that you were two halves of a whole. But you refused to believe that. You weren’t half of anything–you were you. A whole person that had made it this far without the likes of him and would continue to do so, the universe be damned. 

“Stay.” He repeated, pointing to the log behind you before walking off in a flourish of his cape and a crunch of his boots against the forest floor.

“I’m not a dog!” You called after him, but either he didn’t hear or he chose to ignore you because he just kept going. 

You let out a huff of air, blowing your hair out of your face and looking around your surroundings. He most likely wouldn’t stray far, not knowing the area and not wanting you to escape. Was it worth it trying to run? Especially when you were still cuffed and exhausted? You rubbed your wrists against the inside of the metal bands and leaned back against the rough bark of the log.

“Shit,” you breathed, looking up at the sky that was beginning to fill with stars. 

This morning had been such a normal day. You had gotten up and turned the animals out to the pasture, fed the dogs, and started helping one of the other girls pin the laundry to the line. Life was simple albeit tedious. No one bothered you or the rest of the village unless people were traveling through or unless one of his kind showed up. As soon as you saw his ship in the sky, you knew. The way your stomach flipped at the mere sight was a foreign feeling. Your chest ached with a longing that you had never known and as you realized what that meant your hands began to shake. This couldn’t be happening. 

One of the elders had tried to calm you, remind you of your duty to both your clan and his, but you didn’t want to hear it. Was it so bad that you didn’t envision the normal life of an Omega for yourself? You didn’t want to be at someone’s beck and call. The idea of being someone’s plaything was appalling. A vessel for him to use as he saw fit, to bear children, to fuck him at a moment’s notice–no, not you. 

He had approached the village in full armor, just like the stories had said he would. His helmet stayed on and his cloak rippled behind him as he adjusted the rifle on his back. He was war and he was approaching the only peace you had ever known. Before you knew what you were doing, or fully had a plan, you took off running. The other women who had been awaiting his arrival yelled your name but that wasn’t stopping you. You ran as hard and as fast as you could, until your lungs hurt and your muscles pumped acid and then you ran harder. His boots were loud and reckless, breaking branches and toppling dirt in his wake as you slid down a small ravine and tried to lose him in the trees. 

He called your name. That was hardly fair as it made your body ache even more, hearing the way your name sounded in his voice, the way it fell off of his lips, sweet and deep. It was the voice that you had been dreaming about for months. However, dreaming was the wrong word. His voice whispered your name in your sleep, made you break out in a cold sweat, and you shoved your head under your pillow praying that it would just go away. But it didn’t. It was always in the back of your mind. 

The chase had ended in the dirt of the quarry. The only purpose all that running had served was a delay of the inevitable. You were still here, with him, confirming that which you already knew–fate was a cruel son of a bitch.

His footsteps drew you from your thoughts as he stepped back into the clearing of your makeshift camp, carrying a couple small mammals from the woods by their tails. Dinner. Not surprisingly, with him being this close, you didn’t have much of an appetite. The way he held his head told you that part of him was surprised to find you still sitting there. He had been fully prepared to chase you again. 

“I figured I wouldn’t get far,” you said as if reading his thoughts. You wished he would take off that damn helmet, but you knew that wasn’t possible. 

“You figured right,” he nodded, sitting down on a tree stump by the fire.

“You don’t have to be so smug. I bested you once,” you reminded him. “Take these off and let’s go for round two.”

He chuckled through the modulator and shook his head. “I’d love to. If you would promise to behave.” 

The way he said that made you clench your thighs and you hated yourself for it. Whatever dwelt inside of you wanted to please him, wanted to be close to him, and you were going to fight it tooth and nail as long as you could. You sat up straighter and glared at him. 

“Fuck you.” You spit at the ground in his direction and he froze, looking up at you. The black slits in his helm made the gesture that much more intimidating. 

The tension between the two of you seemed to go on forever. Neither willing to look away, to surrender whatever upper hand either of you felt you may have. “You know,” He started, starting to skin the animals at his feet as an excuse to finally break your gaze. “None of the others told me this was going to be so difficult. That you,” he put emphasis on the word with a grit of his teeth. “Were going to be so difficult.”

“Well aren’t you lucky.”

“I was told that this was all very formal. That there were rules to this sort of thing–traditions.”

“Did you think I was going to come with a bow tied around my naked body?” You laughed bitterly.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. His voice was lowered, tinged with embarrassment at the thought of such a thing and it caught you off guard. “That’s not what I want.”

“Isn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what all Mandalorian’s want? To continue the clan line?”

“Yes, but–”

“And to do that, you need me. You need your Omega. That’s all I am.”

“How do you know that’s what I think?” He shoved a skewered stick through one of the freshly cleaned kills and balanced it over the crackling fire. 

“That’s what you all think.”

“You don’t have a very high opinion of Mandalorians, do you?” he turned his head and you scoffed. 

“Lets just say the ones I have met haven’t given me reason to think otherwise.” You looked down at your feet and let out a deep breath and shook your head. 

“Tell me.” He put his forearm on his knee and leaned forward a little, getting comfortable.

“What?”

“Tell me. I want to understand. And,” he gestured around to the darkening woods. “We have nothing but time.” 

He couldn’t be serious. He was supposed to be a cold, ruthless killer. A savage brute that thought of nothing but his primal needs. And here he was, wanting conversation and a meal? You couldn’t help the suspicion that you knew was painted across your face, but at the same time the unexpected behavior was intriguing. 

“My mother was an Omega, obviously,” you started. “She did her duty, followed all of the rules, and when her Mandalorian came to claim her she went willingly. She became pregnant almost instantly–success, right?” He stayed quiet and waited for you to continue. “I watched my Mother’s partner beat her every day for the rest of her life because she couldn’t give him a son. Apparently I wasn’t good enough.”

“That is not allowed by the creed–”

“Oh yeah? Then where was your clan to stop him?” When he didn’t answer you, you took that as an answer of itself. “She died. He killed her–and the next day dropped me here to be raised by my own kind. I haven’t seen him since–and he better hope I never do.”

Your fists were clenched tightly, knuckles turning white from the strain you were putting on them as your throat burned and your eyes felt tight. The anger was still there as if it had all happened yesterday and not decades ago. Anger felt better than pain, so you clung to it desperately and looked at the man in front of you, waiting for whatever piss poor explanation he had to offer. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning the stick with the slowly roasting carcass on it. “He was not a true Mandalorian.”

“Funny, because he looked very similar to you.”

“Such things are not allowed–or aren’t supposed to be.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t bring your mother back, or take the pain away. But Omegas are sacred.”

“Because we are rare.”

“No,” he interjected sharply. “Because you are equals. An alpha and an omega are two halves of a whole, they’re stronger together–this is the way.” He said the last like it was a vow, and perhaps it was. You had definitely heard that phrase before, but for some reason it sounded like it held more meaning when it was coming from his lips. 

“Equals,” you nodded and then raised your wrists to him. “This is what equals means to you?”

The Mandalorian watched you for a moment. It was as if he was trying to study you and you felt the heat of his introspection and made it a point to not look away. This would have been easier if he would have just taken off that damn helm. Wouldn’t it? Perhaps he was hideous underneath, deformed or burned, covered in scars or warts. No. You had a hard time believing that. Despite the animosity that you felt towards him his voice made you believe that he was none of those things. You refused to entertain the idea that he might be handsome, knowing the act of humanizing him in any way would not help you keep your strong resolve. 

“Well, no one told me you were going to run,” He chuckled lightly and moved the stick away from the flames but still close enough to the coals that the meat could continue to cook. He stood up and walked towards you and you couldn’t help flinching away. He noticed. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Says the man who hit me with the butt of that rifle a few hours ago.”

“That was self defense.” He said flatly and you knew he was right. He fished around in the pouch at his side and pulled out a small piece of metal. A key. “I came for an Omega. I’m not interested in a prisoner.” He waited for you to hold out your wrists before sticking the key in the slot where they joined. As he twisted they snapped off and fell into his waiting hand. 

“I don’t,” you swallowed hard and rubbed your wrists as he put the items back in the pouch. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t know me. And I don’t know you. But I have dreamed of you since I was old enough to know you were meant to be mine. If that isn’t what you want–” He shook his head and looked you over before moving back to sit on his stump. “Well, then I’m of no use to you.”

You knew he chose his words carefully. He was of no use to you, not the other way around. He was not there to use you, kidnap you, or force you into a life that you so clearly did not want. Despite the obvious pull he felt from you, it was better to ignore it than to live the rest of his life having earned your hatred.

“I can go?” you asked, hesitantly.

He gave a nod, and gestured an arm towards the tree line. He looked away from you now, acting like the fire was of more interest to him when you knew that wasn’t true. It was too much to take in. A moment ago you just knew he was going to toss you into the hull of his ship and take you off into the unknown kicking and screaming. Now, he was telling you to go home. Your mind raced and it was torn between going to him and satisfying the burning desire in your chest and running as far and as fast away from him as possible. 

You started to open your mouth but the both of you flinched as a handful of ships entered the atmosphere and flew low over the treetops. The sound of their engines was deafening as the whole forest seemed to ripple and bow to the sheer velocity at which they passed. They opened fire on the other side of the clearing and realization hit just how close the both of you actually were to the village. 

“No..” you breathed quietly as one of the ships circled back and took aim again. Fire glowed bright orange and yellow though the dense branches as everything in the area seemed to catch flame at once. Your feet started moving before you could even digest what you were seeing and you ran towards the clearing, knowing just on the other side of those hills, your home was in danger. 

“(Y/N)!” The Mandalorian yelled and he took off after you, cursing quietly under his breath as he grabbed his rifle and slung it over his shoulders. 

You ran just like you did when he was chasing you the first time, only this time you had a very different objective. Who would want to attack this planet? There was nothing here but farmlands and forests. The screaming from the village could be heard across the open flat lands as you ran through the tall grasses and followed the path that you knew led you back to where you needed to go. It didn’t matter that it was pitch black, you had lived here your entire life, and the closer you got to the chaos, the more the fire illuminated the ground below your feet. 

The Mandalorian called for you again, clearly still intent on following you head first into whatever danger lay on the other side of the hills. The vines and thorns tore at your bare arms but didn’t slow you down. The loose silt and gravel didn’t upset your footing as you controlled your breathing and forced your legs to keep going, pumping in time with the speed of your arms to keep your balance. You were fast, but not fast enough. 

As you topped the clearing and ran up the hill that overlooked your village, your eyes widened in fear and disbelief. Everything was on fire, the fields, the homes, the stables–everything. Blaster fire squealed to the right of you and you ducked on instinct as sparks erupted off the trees as they missed their intended target. You watched as your people ran screaming from the soldiers that were clearing the tree lines and opening fire on all of the unarmed people. Their white suits reflected the fire in a menacing manner as women you knew fell to the dirt in front of them.

You wanted to scream, to do something, but as soon as you tried to run down the hill a gloved hand closed around your forearm, keeping you still. 

“Let me go!” you turned around to yell at the Mandalorian but he shook his head. 

“They’ll kill you, too!”

“I have to do something,” you tried to pull your arm free and he tightened his grip. 

“We’re outnumbered!” He said desperately through the modulator, trying to keep you on his side of the hill. “There’s nothing we can do.” You looked back helplessly and knew he was right. Sensing your hesitation, he continued. “If you stay here, you’ll die–come with me!”

He kept his voice raised over the sounds of the violence below and a horrible feeling settled in the bottom of your gut. “Did you do this?!”

“What?” he asked, shocked at the question, but you had to know. “Of course not–those are not Mandalorians! We gotta go!” 

He started to pull you backwards seeing his ship on the other side of the trees and you stopped resisting. You had no weapons and were no good to anyone in the village dead. Your eyes burned with hot tears and you were so tired of feeling hopeless and upset, two feelings that seemed to be a continuing theme the last day and a half. You tore your gaze away from the destruction and followed the man in front of you at a run. 

In no time the two of you reached the ship, the ramp lowering and touching the ground just as soon as he started running up it. You stopped and looked back not knowing if you would ever see home again or if home would ever exist. He called your name and extended his hand down to you patiently.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you weren’t entirely sure what he was sorry for, but it lightened the tightness of your chest ever so slightly. “I meant what I said earlier–I won’t make you do this.”

He wanted you to take his hand, to get on the ship and get you out of harm’s way. He wanted you to go with him after years of knowing the sound of your voice in his dreams and of knowing the two of you were written in the stars long before you even existed. But most of all, he wanted it to be your choice. He had been alone for many years, and if it is what you wanted, he could be alone for many years more. You looked up into the black t-shaped slit of his helmet and wished more than anything you could see his eyes, just the eyes would be enough to tell you what you needed to know–you just knew it. But you slid your hand into his anyway, trusting blindly what you hoped you wouldn’t live to regret.

He pulled you up onto the ramp and kept a gentle hold on your hand as the two of you ran into the belly of the ship. As everything you loved burned behind you, it scared you how welcome his touch felt.


	3. Desolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary/Author’s Note: whew boy, that Mandalorian doc sparked some inspiration. So, this came sooner than I thought. We are reaching the timeline of canon events.
> 
> You and your new shipmate have a talk about your current situation. The Mandalorian takes a bounty for some easy money while you decide where you want to go…or if you want to stay.

The Mandalorian's ship was just as cold and unfeeling as the beskar he wore. It was dark and everything you touched was hard and metallic. After three days of travel, you missed the sunlight. You missed the feeling of grass beneath your feet and the smell of trees and running water. You missed home. But home didn't exist any more. With your fingers pressed to the glass of the ship, you watched as your home burned to the ground in billows of black smoke and orange flames. Whatever enemy had landed definitely destroyed the village but it was quite possible they took it one step further and destroyed the whole planet. Once upon a time the empire had done it to Alderaan, if they were behind this, then such a vile act would be right on target.

Your newfound shipmate was much like his ship, cold and distant, and the two of you barely spoke as you carefully avoided one another. You spent most of your energy in a meticulously calculated dance that allowed you both to keep as much space between you as possible. But by day three of little human interaction and exhausting nightmares not allowing you to sleep, you couldn't take it anymore. 

The doors to the cockpit of the ship hissed open as you approached them. You wrapped the thin blanket around your shoulders tightly and stepped up over the threshold. The Mandalorian sat still as a statue, hands unmoving on the controls and staring out into hyperspace. A slight turn of his helmet was the only indication that let you know that he knew you were there. 

"You need something?" He said flatly through the modulator. 

"I--" you paused and gripped the blanket tighter, suddenly feeling extremely foolish. "I don't want to be alone anymore. Can I--do you mind if I just sit up here with you?"

He gave a small nod and you moved further into the cabin, sitting down in the co-pilot chair to his right. You moved the blanket from around your shoulders and used it to cover your lap, drawing your knees up into the chair and looking out the window. 

"Thank you," you said quietly, not sure what exactly you were thanking him for, but feeling better to not be alone with your thoughts.

The thing about hyperspace was that it looked exactly how you felt and it was comforting. Thousands of stars streaked by in colorful lines and gave the illusion of a grand array of light and beauty, yet you knew when the ship slowed down the sky would once again be black and empty. You felt empty. Like someone had hollowed out your would through your chest, leaving a massive crater where your heart should be. You felt incomplete and wished you could become nothing like the tiny stars in the black void of the sky. 

You don't know when you had started crying, but his voice drew you from your thoughts and you were suddenly aware of the silent wet lines running down your face. 

"I'm sorry." 

You wiped your cheeks on the blanket and looked at him. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he turned and looked at you, his helmet tilted slightly. "For what happened to your home. But I don't regret being there." He turned his gaze forward once again. "It means you got out alive."

"You said you didn't have anything to do with the attack," you said, your voice much colder than you intended. "You have nothing to be sorry for." 

You looked away from him then and back out into the sky. The way he looked at you, even with his helmet, made you want to roll your shoulders. His eyes caused goosebumps to go up your spine to your neck and you tried to ignore them. Was this what it felt like to be so close to your alpha? If so, it was fucking annoying. 

"That doesn't mean I like seeing you like this," he said, hitting a button on the control panel and turning his chair to face you. "I can feel your pain. I can feel your broken--" he shook his head and touched the middle of his chest against the beskar. "Right here. It's unbearable."

"You can?"

He nodded again and lowered his hand from his chest to clasp with his other as he leaned forward with his forearms on his knees. 

"Is it always like this?" You asked before you could stop yourself. "Between," you started to gesture between the two of you and stopped. "Between an alpha and an omega."

"I've been told so."

"Do you know what I'm thinking?" You asked, feeling your eyes go wide with worry as the very thought made panic rise in your chest. 

"No," he chuckled softly. Such a sound from him was uncommon but not entirely unwelcome. "I can't read your mind."

You brought your hand to your lips and bit the edge of your nail in thought, nodding slightly and relaxing at the last bit of information. "Why can't I feel you?" 

The question was bold, and something you probably should have kept to yourself but as you thought over the past few days you realized it was true. You hadn't been able to sense his thoughts, his presence maybe. It was as if your body was hyper aware to the exact moment he entered the room but his feelings--no, you had yet to sense that. 

"Because you aren't allowing yourself." He said simply as if that explained everything. "There is a wall in between, stopping you from receiving me, and until you take it down," he shrugged and turned back around to face forward. "You won't feel a thing."

"Remind me to build it taller." You scoffed jokingly, and he remained silent. If you hadn't been watching you would have missed the slight drop in his shoulders. 

He pulled a lever and reached out to flip a button up, quietly occupying himself with piloting the ship while you watched the stars. You felt your eyes begin to drop slowly as you sunk down deeper into the chair. An unknown amount of time passed as you hovered between sleep and consciousness, but his voice brought you back to the surface as he spoke again. 

"I meant what I said," he started and you raised your head to look at the back of his helmet. "Whatever you want to do--that's your choice. You're welcome to stay on the Razor Crest or I can try to find a suitable planet for you to try and start over." 

"How would I do that? I have nothing." Your voice was barely a whisper but you know he heard you. 

"If it's what you want, I'll help however I can." He took a breath and continued before you could say anything. "Until then, we're gonna need fuel. I have a bounty to scoop up in the outer rim--it shouldn't take too long. Easy credits."

"And then?"

"And then to Nevaro to collect the reward and get some supplies. You're welcome to use the coordinates grid to look for desirable planets."

You nodded even though he couldn't see and leaned your head back against the headrest of the chair. Focusing on breathing slowly through your nose helped keep the panic of emotions at bay as you closed your eyes and silently begged for sleep. It came easily and if that was because of exhaustion or the presence of the Mandalorian, you weren't sure. Maybe a little of both.

The next time you awoke it was because you were cold. Goosebumps erupted on your arms as the blanket had slipped from your body and fallen to the floor. Before you could open your eyes, however, you felt the scratchy material being replaced over your shoulders and tucked in gently. When the soft leather-clad hands left your body you risked opening one eye and watched as the Mandalorian stepped out of the cockpit without a word. 

\--

The planet on the outer rim was as desolate and undesirable as you had imagined. It was a tundra wasteland with snow as far as the eye could see and wind so brutal that one could hear it through the thick durasteel walls of the ship. It howled and screamed and made you feel uneasy every time another gust rocked the top of the Razor Crest slightly. 

"This is where your bounty is?" You asked, looking over the Mandalorian's shoulder and out the front windshield. 

"Pretty decent place to hide, all things considered."

"It looks like a skughole." You grimaced and he gave a small snort.

"That's because it is."

He stood up from the pilot's chair and you stepped back to give him more space. The doors to the cabin opened and you followed him as he started the walk to the hull. 

"What do you want me to do?" The way you asked made you feel like a child, asking your guardian for a list of tasks. It felt demeaning, but this was his world and you were very much a stranger in it. Uselessness was not a common emotion for you, and it was definitely one you did not care for. 

"I want you," he said, hopping down the ledge and into the gully of the ship. "To stay here." He turned his helmet towards you before looking back to his task of opening his weapons closet and picking out what he needed. 

"Stay here?" You asked in shock as he pulled a blaster from the wall and put it in his holster. "But I can help." It may have sounded like you were trying to be nice but if you were being honest all you wanted was to get off this awful ship and stretch your legs.

"I don't doubt that," he said, stopping what he was doing to look at you again. "But you're definitely not dressed for the weather." 

He looked you up and down slowly and you felt the blush start on the apples of your cheeks. He had a point. Your clothes were still very much suited for the balmy weather of your home planet. The light leather armor across your chest covered your torso but you only had one sleeve that connected the single pauldron on your dominant shoulder to protect it. The leather of your pants only hit about mid calf and had pockets and straps for utility, not warmth. 

"There has to be something I can do." You tried one more time, crossing your arms under your breasts.

"Stay here," he said flatly. He plucked a blaster off of the wall and pushed it against your chest. "Watch the ship. Don't let anyone on who isn't me."

You looked down at the metal gun in your hand and back up at him. "You trust me with this?"

"If you were going to shoot me, you would have done it three days ago." He hopped up and grabbed the ladder that led to the main hull, pausing at the top to look back down at you. "Besides, you said it yourself, this place is a skughole--not a whole lot of places you would want to go."

He waited for you to come back up the ladder before pressing a button and pulling a lever that initiated a hissing noise as the hatch of the ship began to lower into a ramp. The cold from the blast swirled inward and you wrapped your arms around yourself and squinted at the bright light reflecting off of the snow. 

"Mando!" You called as he got to the end of the ramp. It suddenly dawned on you that you didn't know his real name, just the abbreviation for his creed--a poor substitute for someone that was supposed to be fated to you. He looked back at you and you almost didn't say it, but you squared your shoulders and looked where his eyes were behind the visor. "Be careful."

He gave a small tip of his helmet and pushed a button on his bracer that caused the hatch to start it's slow close. He may not have been your first choice but, like it or not, for the time being, he was all you had.

\--

By the time the Mandalorian came back it was almost nightfall. Left to your own devices, you didn't do much of anything but twiddle your thumbs and look through the grids of the coordinate calculator. There were plenty of places that would make a suitable home, at least when you looked at them for their face value. The truth was, you'd never been much of anywhere. You had lived on Alderaan as a child with your parents before going back to the Omega planet, but both places had since been destroyed. Home was not something that seemed to stay. Perhaps it wasn’t something that was meant to be permanent. 

You traced your finger along the glowing green grid and swiped through the different planets that you had never even heard of. It seemed hopeless. Even if you did find somewhere, the only thing you owned were the clothes on your back--not exactly much to work with. 

The hiss of the ramp on the main hull drew your attention and announced the Mandalorian's return. When you heard yelling however, you picked the blaster up off of the table and held it tightly. 

"Open the hatch! Hurry! Come on, come on!"

A blue fish-like humanoid creature stumbled into the Razor Crest and you pointed the blaster at his chest. He held his cuffed wrists up in surrender and looked at you with wide eyes. 

"Easy." The Mandalorian's voice came calmly behind him as he stepped onto the ship and looked at you. "It's me."

You let out a breath that you hadn't realized you had been holding and quickly lowered the gun to your side. He pushed passed you with a flourish of his cloak and into the cockpit of the ship. A loud roar came from outside and the sound of ice cracking loudly beneath your feet made you look around. 

"Uh, Mando?" You called, looking wearily at the now closed hatch door, but he was quiet.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go." The blue man said and you had already decided you had had enough of him. 

"What is that?" You asked and he turned to you. 

"That's a Ravinak, sweetheart!" He said as if that explained everything. You glared at him for both his tone and the nickname. 

You hopped up into the cockpit and put your hands on the control panel and looked out beside the Mandalorian. He flipped multiple switches and turned on a few buttons and they lit up at his touch as the Crest roared to life. 

"Hit that," he pointed to a switch above your head and you complied with a nod. 

The ship gave a large jolt to the right and dipped down towards the ice, the metal giving a loud groaning noise as something latched onto the landing gear. You lost your footing and fell, but quicker than you could brace for a fall a large arm shot out and grabbed you around the waist. Cold beskar was under your hands and you braced yourself against the Mandalorian’s chest as he prevented your fall. The normal black t-shaped slit was a mere inch from your face, but you still couldn't see his eyes. 

"T-thanks," you breathed and he sat you back on your feet with a nod.

"Hey, lovebirds! We got a problem! That thing wants to eat us!" The bounty called from behind and you both turned to glare at him. 

The two of you jumped up from the chair and back down into the hull. Mando stopped to grab his Amban Rifle off the hook on the wall as you mimicked what he did earlier to open the hatch. The snow swirled in and you grabbed the wall, gasping at both the cold and the monster that had a hold of your ship. It's giant bone colored tusks had a grip on the landing gear and was working very hard on dragging the Crest down into the icy water. It's wrinkled brown hide was scrunched up around the eyes and led to a bulbous nose--you had never seen anything like it. 

The Mandalorian shoved the pronged bayonet of the rifle into the creature's cheek and it howled in pain before opening its mouth and releasing it's hold on the Crest. As soon as it was free, you hit the release valve and closed the hatch as the Mandalorian tossed you the rifle and ran back to the front of the ship to slam it into gear and make a getaway. 

You hung the rifle up on its hook carefully before stepping back up into the main hull after him. The ship was up in the air and gliding easily now as it broke through the stratosphere and operated in accordance to the Mandalorian's commands. 

"What the hell was that?" You asked, catching your breath. 

"A Ravinak, weren't you listening? They--" 

"I didn't ask you." You snapped at the fishman sitting in the co-pilot chair. Although he had only been in your presence for a short time, you had decided you didn't care for the blue-skinned bounty. A small chuckle brought your attention back to your pilot. 

"A Ravinak. They live under the ice, excellent swimmers. Judging by its size, that was a female." 

You nodded as you absorbed this new information. The things he must have seen on his adventures were unfathomable. The amount of planets, creatures, and people he had met were probably things that you had never imagined in your wildest dreams. Maybe staying with the Mandalorian until you found a new life for yourself wasn't the worst thing imaginable. So far, he had definitely been true to his word--something you didn't expect from his kind. 

"I like your ship," the cuffed man broke the silence as you looked ahead into the starry sky. "Razor Crest? She's a classic. Pre-empire?" 

The Mandalorian stayed quiet and you thought for a moment he wasn't going to respond. He looked over his shoulder, a small movement just to indicate who he was addressing. "You're in her seat." His tone was flat, but very firm as the blue man looked from his captor to you and back. 

"Oh," he said, unsure of himself and he got up, allowing you to sit to the right of the Mandalorian. He glanced around before finally sitting on the floor, plopping down awkwardly, unable to use his bound hands.

As you took your seat, you looked at the Mandalorian and for the millionth time since you had met, wished you could see his face. It was impossible to stop the small grin that was on yours. 

\--

The bounty just couldn't keep quiet or keep himself out of trouble. The second he expressed the need to evacuate himself, a process that he made sound truly vile on purpose, you were suspicious. Apparently the Mandalorian shared your feelings and told you to watch the controls while he followed the blue man down to the belly of the ship. You may have been familiar with a blaster enough not to kill yourself, but your knowledge of piloting a ship was non-existent. Thank the Maker for autopilot. 

The doors hissed as the Mandalorian walked back in and took his seat once again. Only this time, he was alone.

"Where's the--?" Not knowing the bounty's name or species, you put your hands at the side of your neck and waggled your fingers to mimic gills. 

"He's...detained," he said ominously. 

"I thought he'd never stop talking," you said, pulling your feet up into the chair to fold under your ass and get comfortable. 

"They all do that," he said, pushing a lever forward slowly. "As if talking will get me to not turn them over to the guild."

You watched him with quiet interest and contemplated even asking your next question. It was a private matter, and one that a man like him certainly wouldn't entertain. But if you were going to be staying on the ship for the foreseeable future, was it so wrong to want to get to know him? Sitting up in the chair, you ran a hand through your hair before speaking up. 

"Do you ever have a bounty on someone that doesn't deserve it?"

He seemed to think for a moment, helmet tilting minutely as he adjusted his grip ever so slightly on the controls. "A bounty is a bounty. It's better for everyone if the person hunting it doesn't ask questions."

"Must weigh heavy on one's conscience." You lowered your voice slightly as you imagined such a life. One job to the next, not asking questions or forming attachments, sure such behavior made him good at what he did but you couldn't imagine a more lonely existence. 

The silence fell between the two of you like it had many times in the last few days. You wished there was a way to get through it, get him to open up just the tiniest amount. As someone who spent your entire life in a tight knit village, you didn't handle silence as well as he probably wished you did. 

"You know, it didn't occur to me until you left earlier," you said, putting your hands in your lap and looking at the back of his helmet. "I don't know your real name. Just...just what everyone else calls you."

His shoulders tightened, pinching in the middle slightly as he contemplated what you were really asking. "Mando is fine."

"I hardly think that's fair. We are ‘fated mates’ after all," you couldn't keep the sarcasm out of your voice and used your fingers to do air quotations. When his shoulders tightened even more, you cleared your throat and tried to squeeze most of the venom from your tone. "I mean, you know my name, that's what I'm trying to say."

He was quiet for far too long and you could feel your jaw getting tighter by the second. Surely it wasn't that hard, it wasn't like you were asking for his life story, just something you could call him to level the playing field a little. Instead of saying something you knew you would regret, you took a deep breath and got up. If he wasn't going to tell you, well, there wasn't much you could do to make him.

"It's Din."

You stopped at the threshold of the doorway and put your hand on the wall, looking back at him over your shoulder. "What?"

"My name," he flicked a button and turned the chair to face you, the silver of his helmet reflecting the stars in the sky. "It's Din."

"Din," you nodded, giving him a small smile. 

“Only use it when it’s just the two of us,” He said, and paused before adding, “Please.”

"Of course. It's nice to meet you, Din."

"Same to you." He gave a small nod and you left the cockpit with a goal of getting some rest, and ignoring the way your heart had just sped up.


	4. The Cloak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple gift and a walk in a new city has you feeling conflicted about your new partner... captor?...pilot? Whatever his relationship to you at the moment, you get a taste of what it means to be on the metaphorical arm of a Mandalorian. In other words, they can look but they better not touch.
> 
> Holy shirtballs it's been since May?? Thanks for sticking by me, I'm back in my Din feelings. Enjoy. I feel like garbage so this is unedited and Im chucking it out and napping. Love y’all.

Nevaro wasn't much better than the planet on the outer rim. It was cold, but there was much less snow and wind, which you were thankful for. The ice sheets were replaced with actual ground and a modern type city had become the epicenter for trade, markets, and travelers, in an otherwise empty and forgotten wasteland. You touched the wall and regained your footing as the Razor Crest touched down on the ground and you put a hand over your stomach. You hadn’t flown this much in your life and it was taking its toll on your center of gravity. 

“Are you alright?” Mando said from behind you and you jumped, moving your hand from your stomach to your heart. 

“Shit--you have to start making noise or something--” you gasped as he looked you up and down in silence. 

You couldn’t tell where his vision lingered unless he exaggerated the movements of his helmet but you felt something warm in your chest blossom outward through you. He was a few feet away and yet he felt like home. You took a step towards him before you realized what you were doing. 

You needed air. You needed to breathe something other than the recycled air of the ship. This was too much. Being around him like this made you feel like you were drowning, like your lungs were full of molasses and the smell of him had permeated your entire existence--it was both overwhelming and comforting. 

The Mandalorian had stopped you as you went to pull the hatch lever, clawing desperately to get out before you even knew it was safe. His gloved hand swallowed yours over the handle, making you realize just how big and imposing he really was. It was an innocent touch, it grounded you, made your shoulders relax and yet... 

“Don’t touch me,” you yanked your hand back from his and held it to your chest like he had burned you. “Don’t--just don’t.” 

“Sorry.”

If you were going to deny him, truly fight whatever this was between you two, tooth and nail, then he had to respect the distance you both needed. The space between your Omega and his Alpha was hardly space at all, it was a ticking time bomb. One of you would break. One of you would cave. And when you did the world as you knew it would be over. There would be no coming back and the thought alone terrified you to your core. 

Without another word, he reached back and started unclipping his cloak. Panic filled your gut as you watched his careful movements.

"What are you doing?"

"I get that, this," he gestured to your body. "Is everyday wear on your planet but, by Nevaro standards, you're practically naked." 

“Oh--”

“We can stop in the market and get you some clothes.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“I do.”

“I can’t ask you--”

“You didn’t,” he said, turning his helmet to look at you. “I offered.”

"Are you concerned about my Modesty?" You couldn't help the glare in his direction as you crossed your arms. Was his offer to buy you clothes an olive branch of sorts? You had nothing to your name, no credits, no possessions, despite his insistence that you weren't his prisoner, you weren’t exactly free to do whatever you wanted. 

"No." His hand twitched into a fist before he heaved a sigh and shook his head. "I'm concerned about you getting sick. Take this."

He held out his cloak, tattered towards the bottom and thinning in places, but definitely a welcome addition when it came to your overall warmth. You hesitated for a moment before taking it from him gently. 

"Thank you." 

He nodded in acknowledgement. “Stay close to me. This is a step up from Nevarro but--” he hesitated as if he wanted to say something else and thought better of it. “Just stay close.”

You nodded as he pulled the lever for the door and waited for the ramp to make its descent to the ground. Once the cloak was settled around your shoulders, you followed him down. He offered his hand to help you down and you waved it away. It was bad enough that wearing his cloak made you feel like you were surrounded by him. Despite your desperate want to put some distance between you and the man, it seemed like it wouldn’t be happening any time soon. 

The soles of your boots were comfortable but definitely not waterproof and it didn’t take long for the chill of the snowy ground to seep into the bottoms of your feet. The Mandalorian kept glancing at you as if he could tell--could he? You didn’t want to know. He had said the day before that he had let his walls down for you and that if you did the same you would be able to feel him, too. Yeah, you really didn’t want to know. 

Like he requested, you stayed close, doing your best to take in the surroundings of the city and ignore the way people stared. You imagined the pair of you stuck out like a sore thumb. A Mandalorian in old, battered beskar, and a woman who clearly belonged on another planet. A broad shouldered creature with a burlap traveler's cloak and a rifle slung on his back, bumped into roughly. Stumbling into the Mandalorian at your side, you grabbed his arm and gasped as the traveler harshly spoke at you in another language. 

“Hey,” he said, pausing to catch you. “You’re alright.”

“It’s--I mean I’m not--” you took a breath to steady yourself, releasing his arm almost as quickly as you had grabbed it. “This is not--”

“Like home?” he asked, tilting his helmet and you nodded. You shut your eyes tightly, ignoring the burn that started behind them as you thought of a place that no longer existed. “Come on.” 

He was careful not to touch you, letting his hand hover over your lower back as you moved down an alley and into a shabby building at the end of the street. It looked like a bar of some sort and as the two of you ducked inside the door, you realized you had been correct about one thing at least. 

The place was boisterous but inviting in the sense that everyone was either engaging in food or drink. People and beings of all sorts sat at the tables and at the stone countertop as they conversed and gestured, bartered and indulged. Much like your initial quick walk through the marketplace, your eyes couldn’t decide where to look first. 

“Mando!” 

A voice called in your direction and the man in question guided you towards a booth, sitting opposite a jovial looking man in a leather coat. You sat, looking up as Mando joined you and tossed the handful of tracking fobs on the table.

“Ah that was fast, did you catch them all?” the man across from you asked. He had kind, dark eyes, and a graying goatee that framed his smile--that you had yet to decide if it was genuine or not. When Mando nodded, he clapped his hands together once. “Good. I’ll begin the off-load.”

He waved his hand and spoke in a sharp, guttural language as a few men moved outside at his command. He reached in a pouch and counted out a large stack of discs and shoved them across the table.

“These are imperial credits,” Din said, and the disapproval in his voice was almost palpable. 

“They still spend.” He waved his hand outward like the charming businessman that he thought he was.

“I don’t know if you heard, but the Empire is gone.” Din’s increasing agitation made you feel like taking a deep breath was unachievable. You wanted to touch him, calm him down, but before you could make up your mind, the emotion was gone. Did he do that?

“It's all I have,” the other man said and Mando grabbed the fobs and moved to stand before he was stopped once again. “Save the theatrics. By the maker, are all you Mandos this dramatic?” He glanced at you before digging back into his coin bag and pulling out another stack of different colored discs. “I can do calimari flan. But I can only pay half.”

“Fine,” Din said flatly, swiping the stack of credits off of the table. 

“So, this is your Omega?” the man said as he turned his attention to you and you swallowed hard. “I must say I've never seen one in person before--” he looked you up and down but not in a predatory way, but as if he was genuinely interested and expected you to do a trick of some sorts.   
  
“Don't talk about her like she's not here,” Din snapped, telling him your name before gesturing forward. “This is Greef Karga. Leader of the guild.”

“Don’t say it with such disdain, Mando. We go way back--” Greef grinned at you and leaned back in his seat. 

“What jobs do you have?” Din interrupted.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you interjected and Greef gave you another smile before turning back to Din with an exasperated sigh.

“The usual,” he started tossing fobs down one at a time and naming off the listed bounties. “A bail jumper, a bail jumper, oh, look, another bail jumper, smuggler--”

“I’ll take them all,” Din put his gloved hand over the fobs and Greef’s eyes widened.

“Now, hold on,” he stopped the Mandalorian with a hand on his wrist. “There are other members of the guild and this is all I have.”

“Why so slow?” Din tilted his helmet in question and you bit your lip at the newfound level of confidence in his tone. 

“Not slow at all, in fact, very busy--they just don’t want to pay guild rates.” The guild leader put his arms back on the edge of the booth and sighed. “They want it done well but they also want it done cheaply.”

“They want to have their cake and eat it too?” you asked and he pointed to you.

“Exactly.”

“What’s your highest bounty?” Din asked.

“Not much,” he shrugged. “About five thousand.”

“That won’t even cover fuel these days,” Din said in disbelief.

“What’s the matter Mando? Are you thinking about retiring on me?” Karga said, raising a bushy eyebrow before looking at you with a sly smile. “Settling down, getting soft, raising some of your own little bounty hunters?”

“Watch it,” Din grit his teeth and you felt a shiver down your spine. 

“You’re right, my apologies,” Karga put a hand to his chest and bowed his head a bit. “I shouldn’t talk about things I don’t understand.” He took a drink from the cup in front of him and cleared his throat. “There is something you might be interested in.”

“I’m listening.”

“Deep pocket.”

“Underworld?”

“All I know is the chain code.” 

They may have been speaking the common tongue but they might as well been speaking a language you had never heard of. Underworld? That sounded dangerous. Whatever trouble Din was about to get the two of you in, it must have been good money for him to even consider it. He hesitated and Greef held up another small, opalescent disc, placing it in front of the Mando before moving the rest of the fobs to the side. 

“It’s up to you,” he said. “But do you want the chit or not?”

\--

“What kind of job is this?” you asked as the two of you stepped back out into the sunlight. It did little to cut through the winter chill but it felt good after spending so much time on the Razor Crest. 

“I don’t know. I’m going to find out,” he stopped and pulled a small pouch off of his belt.

“Am I not going with you?” you asked as he grabbed your wrist and plopped the coin purse in your hand. It jingled lightly with credits and you looked at him in question.

“No, I do this part alone.” 

“And what if you die? Am I just stuck here then?” Panic started to bubble in your gut at the idea of him leaving you. All of that time on the ship wishing you could be away from him and now you didn’t want him out of your sight. Whatever metaphysical bullshit your Omega was doing when it came to him was starting to give you whiplash. 

“I won’t die--they want someone to complete the bounty. I’m their best shot.”

“Someone’s cocky.”

He stopped and despite not being able to see his face you just knew that he was giving you a hard stare. “This is just information.”

“Then what’s this?” You held up the coin purse and shook it at him.

“Go get some clothes. Something sturdy, practical--better shoes if you can find them.” He nodded towards the marketplace behind you and you looked over your shoulder.

“Oh--”

“Don’t get ripped off.”

You tossed the bag up and down, weighing it absently in your hand. “I could just steal this and run away,” you said as the idea crossed your mind.

Din didn’t hesitate, sticking his leg out slightly to widen his stance and hooking his thumbs in his belt. “You could. But if that’s really what you want, there are much prettier planets I would be happy to take you to.”

Part of it had been a jest. Part of it had been a test. But his ability to see through your bluff, but to still humor you let you know that he meant it. He really would take you wherever you wanted to go if getting away from him is what would make you happy. 

“Where do you want me to meet you?”

His shoulders relaxed at your question as he realized you wouldn’t be stupid enough to run with what constituted to little more than a pouch of lunch money. He moved his hand out, started to touch your arm, but when you flinched back on instinct he let his hand drop. 

“I’ll find you. Just,” he cleared his throat and the modulator crackled. “Just don’t get into any trouble.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You may not accept it yet, but regardless of…” he paused to gesture between the two of you. “You’re still an Omega. And--”

“Omegas are rare,” you sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the ridiculous mantra that had ruled over your entire life. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” You pulled his cloak tighter around your shoulders and stomped off into the heart of the market. 

\--

The market was almost too distracting to concentrate on the simple task of finding something more suitable to wear. People yelled, laughed, traded, and the individual stands glittered in the sunlight and drew one’s eye to their most expensive and precious products. The smells of food and spices and tanned leathers brought people closer to the warmth of the crowd and you were glad that the Mandalorian had other things to do so he didn’t have to wait as you browsed. 

“Can I help you dear?” a smooth voice said as you turned around and faced the cart and its owner. 

The salesman was a small man, probably about four feet tall and very round in the middle. His balding head and silvery wispy hair reflected the sun as he pulled his belt up higher on his waist. You looked at the fabrics and different tanned wares and gave him a small smile. 

“How did you know?”

“You’re looking about as prepared as a dune lizard in a snowstorm,” he chuckled, putting his hands on his large belly as it shook. “But less scaly--much prettier.” His tone was still kind and your smile grew slightly as he ushered you closer to his cart and drug his hand along the rack of cloth. “Take a look.”

You traced your fingertips over the different materials, the beads, the leather, and the cotton. You knew exactly what items you would pick if you were at home, a place that didn’t exist any more. 

“You definitely need one of these,” he said, handing you a folded cloak that you took graciously. “Yours looks like it has seen better days.” He chuckled, gesturing to the one that was currently on your shoulders. The one that belonged to the Mandalorian. 

“Thank you,” you said, looking at it and holding it close to your chest. “I’ll also take this. And this--if you don’t mind.”

\--

Somehow, through the kindness of the shopkeeper and basica good luck, you had managed to get better clothes and still have credits to give back to Mando. You didn’t want to owe him more than you already did. You were in no position to pay him back and it was uncertain if you ever would be. The feeling of helplessness and general unusefulness was one that weighed heavy on your chest. A stagnant mind and still hands always lead to impulsiveness and trouble--at least that was what the elders used to say. But then again they said a lot of things that never seemed to make much sense. 

The gloves creaked as you flexed your hands and broke them in. You had opted for longer gloves and shorter sleeves, if you ever saw any kind of battle again, or granted if you ever got your hands back on a proper staff, you needed more movement. The flesh of your stomach and legs were covered now, and you had to admit you were much warmer than you had been a few hours ago. Yet again, your new pilot seemed to be more sensible than you wanted to give him credit for. 

However, the one thing that you had purchased that you hadn’t put on was the cloak. Din’s was still around your shoulders and the new one was carefully folded in the side bag with the rest of your old clothes. 

Why didn’t you want to take it off? The one you had now was definitely better, but something was keeping you from replacing it with the one he had given you this morning. Was it because it smelled like him? It made you feel safe? It calmed the roaring within your subconscious and other things that made you want to run to him? All were notions that you didn’t want to allow yourself to entertain. 

It was thoughts like these that allowed you to walk idly down the street and into the alley unaware that you were being followed. 

A hand grabbed you by the bend of your elbow and turned you around, pushing you up against the bricks. “Where do you think you’re going, princess?” 

"Shit!" You gasped as your back hit the wall. You dropped the satchel and tried to shove your attacker away from you forcefully by shoving against their chest. 

"You don't look like you're from around here." He was an ugly man. With missing teeth and a scar going through the right half of his face, he was what one would assume when they tried to define the word deviant. His breath smelled of stale smoke and damp mold as he grabbed you by the wrists and leaned in to sniff your hair. "You're definitely not from around here."

"Get off--" 

Din has asked you to do one thing, one single thing, to not get into trouble. And you couldn't even manage to do that. You missed your staff. You thought back to a week ago when you had used it to lay the great Mandalorian out on his ass. You missed not feeling like a walking liability, like a piece of meat that anyone could sample as it was laid out on the buffet. You missed not feeling like an item. You were more than just a fucking Omega, you were a person. You were you.

_'I'm looking for a partner, not a prisoner.'_

Din's words from the campfire rang back in your mind and you grit your teeth and with a growl brought your knee up into the man's stomach. He doubled over but recovered quickly enough to raise his fist to you. You scrunched up your face, closed your eyes and prepared for a blow...that never came. 

A hiss and a whistle of iron shot through the air and whipped around his wrist, stopping him mid strike as the Mandalorian jerked him backwards flat onto his back. He hauled the assailant away from you with slow, strong pulls of the metal cord attached to his wrist, like a very large fish that continued to grunt and flop in the dirt. 

“I didn’t do anything!” The man protested, eyes widening in fear as he laid eyes on the beskar covered warrior. “I didn’t know she was yours!”

“She’s not,” he said flatly, punching the man between the eyes and knocking him unconscious. With a press of a button and a whirrrr of air, he brought back his snare line and looked up at you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you nodded, reaching down and picking your bag back up. You stopped as he extended his hand, the orange fingertips of his gloves a silent beacon of help. You glanced down at the still body of the ugly man and back to the Mandalorian that you were hell bent on denying at every turn. 

This time...you took his hand. 


	5. Not a Signet But a Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din shows you the secret hideaway of his people. He learns of your actions that could invalidate you as an Omega. And why does betraying him hurt this badly?

“Are you alright?” he repeated himself as the two of you walked briskly down another alley into a less crowded street. You stopped in an area shaded by the sun and wrapped your arms around yourself as best as you could.

“I said I’m fine--thank you,” you added the last with a glance up at him. It wasn’t his fault that a stranger had accosted you and it wasn’t his fault that every time you tried harder to distance yourself from him, something kept pulling you back. He was always in the right place at the right time. You were grateful, you were--but it was infuriating. It was as if he had his own kind of gravitational field and you were the moon that was kept unwillingly in his orbit. “Did you get what you needed?”

“What?”

“The chit? The client that Karga sent you to--how did that go?” you asked and if you hadn’t been looking so closely, you would have missed the way his shoulders stiffened.

“Fine.”

“Fine? That doesn’t sound fine.”

He sighed and waited a beat before giving you a bit more. “We have a new job.”

“We?” It was hard to keep the surprise off of your face but you managed.

“I assume you’re coming with me.” He waited for you to nod before continuing. “Then _we_ have a new job.”

“Where?” you asked as he started to walk away, expecting you to follow.

“Arvala-7.”

That meant nothing to you considering you had barely been off your own home planet. But at least he wasn’t leaving you totally in the dark. “Am I allowed to ask what the job is about?” you crossed your arms and adjusted the side bag on your shoulder.

“You’re allowed to ask.” His voice was gruff but still remained practically emotionless.

“The way you said that, makes me think that I can ask but you might not answer.”

“You catch on quick.”

You had never met a man who was so calm and at the same time so frustrating. His strides were large and you found yourself having to take two steps to his one just to keep up. Your clothes were much more comfortable than the ones you had been wearing for the past week and you would have to remember to tell him thank you. But for now, it seemed he appreciated your silence. Did he? Were you annoying him with your presence? It was as if for the first time since he set foot on your home planet, you were having a hard time sensing him.

“Hey--wait…” you grabbed his arm and stopped him, quickly stepping in front to look up at his face. By the Maker he was tall and so very broad.

He watched you for a moment, or at least you thought he did. His helmet was pointed in your direction and you thought your inability to see his face would disturb you more. But it didn’t. The air around him was pleasantly...blank.

“How are you doing that?” you asked, not really sure what you were talking about but hoping he would understand.

“Doing what?”

“I can’t--” you gestured between the two of you and bit your lip in concern. “I can’t feel--” you waved your arm in a circle in front of his broad chest, feeling like an idiot for being unable to properly articulate what the hell you were talking about. His aura? Essence? None of that sounded right.

“I could tell it made you uncomfortable,” he said simply. “When I--well, when I let my guard down so I could sense you.”

“So, you’re blocking me out?”

“More or less.”

You nodded and glanced at his gloved hands, remembering the way you took one of them so easily a few moments ago. As if he could tell where your mind was, he offered you his hand with his palm facing up. You hesitated, slowly reaching out to put your fingertips against his palm and pulling back once before slipping your hand in his fully as if to test if it would burn you. Nothing.

“See?” he asked. “The gloves help, too.”

“I didn’t know that when I bought them,” you said honestly and he gave a small nod.

“Until you know how to control your Omega, more layers help.”

“You talk about her as if she isn’t me. As if we’re two different things” You said, looking at him in confusion.

“It’s complicated.”

He slipped his hand away from yours and you were grateful for the extra steps he was taking for your comfort. However, knowing you couldn’t sense him like you could just this morning made you more sad than you cared to admit. He cleared his throat and put his hand at his side, making you pull your gaze back up to his helmet.

“Oh,” you said with realization. “Here.” You dug out the small coin purse and held it out to him. “I didn’t get ripped off--just like you said.”

He made no move to take it from you and instead shook his head slowly. “Keep it. Just in case.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you grabbed his wrist and slapped the purse into his hand. “I don’t need your charity, Din. You’ve done enough.”

His shoulders leaned back as his helmet moved slightly and you almost laughed at how expressive he could be without showing his face. “You are a very stubborn woman, has anyone told you that?”

“No,” you shook your head, trying your best to sound serious. “No one’s ever told me that.” You turned to walk away from him and you heard him chuckle through his modulator. The mechanics of his helmet made it sound like a scoff but it made you grin all the same. “Was that a laugh?”

“No.”

“I think it was.” You walked backwards in front of him so he could see your sly smile and you could continue to tease.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes--I made the big bad Mandalorian laugh.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. You didn’t laugh and I’m not stubborn--now, we’re both lying to ourselves.”

You turned back and pointed down the street in the direction that he had been headed before you stopped him. If you would have only faced him a moment longer, you would have seen the way he paused to admire you in the sunlight as you walked away.

“Yes, we are,” he whispered to himself, thankful the helmet hid the unrequited longing in his eyes.

\--

The Mandalorian lead the way down the stone steps at the end of an alleyway and through a hidden door in the alabaster wall. It was incredibly dark and well hidden and he pulled back a ragged curtain and gestured for you to walk through. The light didn’t get much better but your eyes adjusted and you were grateful that you didn’t fall face first into the dirt.

He stopped to open a large metal grate in the floor in the back of the building and you peered down as he jumped. His boots landed with a heavy thud and he held his hand up to you, waiting for you to follow suit. You wanted to ask if he was joking, to ask if he really expected you to jump down what was more or less a sewer, but you had already given him enough trouble, so you took his help without complaint.

To be completely under the city, the tunnel was relatively clean. Squares of light through metal grates from the surface streets above were overhead about every fifteen feet or so and it made everything less ominous.

“What is this place?” you asked as he fell into step beside you, thankfully slowing his stride to allow you to observe.

“It’s the Covert,” He said as if that explained everything. When you looked at him in question, he continued. “After the empire fell, it’s where the Mandalorians settled--the Tribe.”

“Oh,” you said, your voice falling to a quiet tone as the two of you walked into a different tunnel. “So, wait your people--” you came up short as the new tunnel opened up into a much larger room with better lighting and you saw you were no longer alone. “...live down here?”

“Yes,” he nodded and kept moving.

People sat on ledges speaking quietly to one another, walking with a clear mission through tunnels that they had navigated many times. A couple small children ran past you and you moved closer to Din to avoid running into them. They wore simple cloth clothing, not unlike the new ones you had bought this morning, the main difference was that they all wore helmets--much like the man next to you. The only thing that separated the warriors from the civilians was the rest of the armor.

“They’re staring at me,” you whispered as you stood close enough that your arm brushed against his.

“Of course they are. You’re--”

“Don’t say it,” you almost groaned. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“Not wearing a helmet.” He finished his sentence and you could practically hear the grin in his voice. Now, he was the one teasing you. Why did that make your chest tighten?

“Am I even allowed to be down here?” you asked. “I feel like I’m trespassing.” You turned the corner down a deserted hallway and you were thankful for the lack of people staring at you.

“You’re allowed to be anywhere I go.”

His voice was flat and the words that you both knew he wanted to say hung in the air. _Even if you’re not my Omega._ His people stared at you because they thought you were special, because they thought you were one of them. You felt like you were betraying a trust that you had never asked to be a part of. Since the day you were born into a role that you had no desire to be in, you had made up your mind that you would never be anyone’s Omega. And now there were people looking at you...like that.

The idea that the universe had picked your mate for you before your life even began seemed too insane to believe, and imposed too greatly on your free will for comfort. But what did that mean for Din? The one person he was supposed to be with didn’t want him and refused to try. You had never considered what your choices might mean to the other side of things, to your Alpha. Because, if you were honest, you had never cared.

“In here,” Din said, pulling you from your thoughts as he pulled back another thick curtain and you heard the clanging of metal. The orange glow of fire lit the entire room and spilled out into the hallway in such a way that you felt the heat of the flames before you actually saw them.

Fire rose up in small columns from the dias in the center of the room. The heat was so intense in the middle of the flames that they burned blue and that was where a figure was standing over them. She hammered away at the metal clasped tightly in her big iron tools, not bothering to look up as the two of you entered. _Clang. Clang. Clang._

Din leaned his rifle against the wall and moved to the floor where a small table and a few pillows for padding against the stone lay. He went to his knees and nodded his helmet for you to join him.

The woman looked up then, her gold helmet was incredibly striking, with small pointed horns on top and dark almond slits actually resembling eyes in the way that Din’s didn’t. She wore no metal armor on her body but instead light armor made of leather and fur. It was much more suited for working in a place such as this as opposed to being on the battlefield.

She placed her tools off to the side and sat cross legged on the other side of the table. You watched as Din reached in his pocket and pulled out a small rectangle of one of the prettiest metals you had ever seen. It shimmered and flashed in the firelight and yet you had no doubt of its incredible strength. That could be only one thing--beskar.

“This was gathered in the Great Purge,” the armorer finally spoke and her voice was strong and soothing, a voice that told you she was most likely beautiful under her helmet. Her fingers traced the outline of the Imperial symbol stamped into the bottom corner. “It is good it is back with the Tribe.”

“Yes,” Din nodded, resting his gloved hands on his knees.

The armorer looked to you then before back to the man beside you. “It seems you have found two precious things to return to the ways of the Madalore.”

Precious. Hardly a word you would have used to describe yourself. If she knew the whole story, you had a feeling she would be describing you with very different words.

“This is my Omega,” Din said quietly and you didn’t correct him this time on the way he said it. Somehow it seemed inappropriate to argue your title in front of a woman who was clearly so important to his people. “I thought I could replace one piece of my armor--keep the rest.”

“This is extremely generous,” she nodded as she turned the small metal rectangle over in her gloved hands. “The excess will sponsor many Foundlings.”

“That's good,” Din said, and his voice crackled through the modulator slightly, making you turn to look at him. “I was once a Foundling.”

“I know.”

You found it hard to imagine the Mandalorian sitting next to you as a child. Had he not always been this large? This imposing and deadly? Of course not. It made sense that he had a childhood, a past, and the idea made you fight every urge you had to ask him to elaborate. 

“A pauldron would be in order,” the armorer said, interrupting your thoughts as she nodded to Din’s shoulder. “Has your signet been revealed?” She stood up with the beskar block and moved to look over her tools on the table.

“Not yet,” Din said.

“Soon,” she reassured him before looking at you. “What about you, dear? What about your constellation?”

“My what?”

“Your constellation. Your own symbol,” she gestured out to you with a gloved hand. “If your Mandalorian wishes, I could model his signet after your mark in some way.”

The two of them turned their helmets towards you and you could feel the expectant gazes that made you suddenly very sick to your stomach. Your constellation. A birthmark that marked you as an Omega. Everyone’s was different. Each lineage had their own and no two Omegas were exactly the same. Except there was one problem...

“I--” you started and stopped, feeling the bile rise in your throat. “I don’t have one.”

“You must, otherwise you wouldn’t be an Omega,” the armorer said simply and you looked at Din. The other Mandalorian remained still as a statue and you regretted not being able to sense him in this moment, to have even an inkling of what he was feeling.

“I mean,” you rephrased, wringing your hands in your lap as you tried to be braver than you felt. “I did. I used to.”

“Used to?” she put her tools back on the leather mat of her workbench so she could turn and look at you more pointedly. There was no use in hiding it now, if you had no plans of sticking around to be his Omega or to make this your life, what did it matter? It shouldn’t matter. You had spent your whole life trying to convince those around you that this was not your path, that you were your own person, and yet why now, in front of your Alpha and a member of his tribe, did you feel so ashamed?

“I cut it off.”

A clang echoed through the room as she dropped one of her heavy tools and took a step towards you. “You did _what_?”

You looked between her and Din and realized that the latter was no longer looking at you. His helmet was firmly fixed on the ground and you wanted to reach out to him, to apologize. This had nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. This was your fault, not his. He had yet to wrong you in anyway and here you stood feeling like you had dealt him a devastating blow.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, slowly getting to your feet. You reached out to touch his shoulder and pulled your hand back before you could make contact. “I’m sorry.” you repeated as you turned and ran from the room.

\--

He caught up to you easily. You knew he would, but then again you weren’t really running to escape him, you were running because you didn’t want to have an audience for this conversation. A conversation you thought you would never have to have.

You didn’t want to know what he thought about your revelation. You didn’t want to know how it made him feel. You didn’t care. Didn’t you? Running put distance not only between the disapproving stare of the armorer but also between you and whatever was between you and the Mandalorian. Your heart hammered in your chest as blood rushed in your ears and when he grabbed you by the arm you were almost grateful.

“Stop,” he said firmly as he spun you around and pressed you back against the wall in the shadows of an empty hallway.

“What?” you snapped, more sharply than you intended as you looked up at him. Your reflection stared back at you from the black ice of his helmet and you can't remember when you had started crying.

“Tell me again.”

“Tell you what?”

“What did you do?” He gripped your arms a little more firmly and you felt the trickle of anger slipped past the walls of his control.

“I cut off my birthmark! Is that what you want to hear? I cut it off when I was sixteen and old enough to know what it was.” You tried to breathe through your nose to hold back any hysterics, but your tears made it hard. “I told you--I told you when came for me that I didn’t want this--”

“You think I want this?” he asked, his voice getting louder and making you try to pull out of his grip but he held tighter. “You think I don’t want to live my own life? You think I want an Omega who despises me? Or does that not matter to you?”

“You could have left me! You could have left me on my planet--on my home!”

“If I did, then you’d be dead!”

“And what difference would that make to you??” You were almost screaming and you shouldn’t be but it felt good. “Alphas only care about one thing--”

“And how many have you met?” he snapped and you had the decency to feel ashamed.

You blamed him. You blamed him for everything. And as you stood there and glared at each other, breathing heavy in the silence, you knew in your mind he was paying for sins he didn’t even commit. He was right in the fact that the only other Alpha and Mandalorian you had ever met had been your father. Any residual hate you had left over was bleeding out onto the man in front of you and that wasn’t fair.

His grip on your arms lessened and he cleared his throat to adopt a more normal, gentler tone. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me,” he repeated. “I want to see it.”

“Din, you shouldn’t--”

_“Gedet'ye.”_

_Please._ You weren’t fluent in Mando'a, but you were no stranger to it either. The clan on your home planet had taught you enough to get by, to impress your future Mandalorian mate--which is precisely why you never paid attention.

With a huff of breath you undid the cloak from your shoulders and handed it to him to hold. He released your arms and took a step back, watching carefully as you turned your back to him. You undid the clasps on your tunic with jerky movements, suddenly not caring who or what saw you undress. He wanted to see? Then you would show him, dammit. You let the tunic fall off your right shoulder, holding the rest of the material tight to your body to keep your breasts covered. The moment he sucked in a quiet breath through his modulator, you knew he saw it.

The back of your shoulder, above the broad plane of your scapula, was covered in a large, continuous scar. In an area that took up the entire spread of his hand, the flesh was puckered and damaged, littered with divots and craters where it was no longer smooth. It was discolored, the portion that grew back didn’t match the undamaged parts around it. You knew it was ugly. It always had been. A hack-job done by an angry woman with a dull blade.

“You did this?” he asked. The soft movement of air let you know his hand was hovering over your shoulder, but he didn’t touch you.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Shortly after my mother was killed. It was nothing more than a reminder--I didn’t want to have to see it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

He paused and you closed your eyes, waiting for him to touch the scars. Did you want him to? You weren’t sure. But before you could decide whether or not to stop him, he gently pulled the tunic back over your shoulder and let his hand fall away from your body.

He stayed silent as you redid the clasps and turned back to him slowly. “I’m sorry, Din.” You apologized for the third time and he remained infuriatingly stoic.

“What’s done is done.”

“That’s it?”

“What else is there to say?” He held the cloak back out to you and you remembered your marketplace purchase as you put it back over your shoulders.

“Wait…” you said before he could turn away, taking a moment to dig through the bag at your side. “Here.” The new cloak was identical to the one he had given you, except new and untattered.

He took it gently from you before looking up and tilting his helmet to the side. “What’s this?”

“You gave me yours, so, you needed a new one,” you shrugged it off as if it made perfect sense.

“Don’t you want the new one?” he asked, and you could almost hear the underlying grin in his tone.

“No, this one--” you touched your shoulders and shook your head. “This one’s fine.”

“Uh huh…” he said skeptically.

“What?” you crossed your arms, immediately feeling more defensive.

“Nothing. Thank you,” he raised it slightly. “For the gift.”

“Look, you paid for it,” you held out a hand and waved away his thanks. “Don’t read too much into it.” You turned away from him then, walking down the stairs towards what you assumed was an exit of some kind. “We should get going--Avalon-5 is pretty far away.”

“Arvala-7,” he corrected.

“Whatever.” You flourished your hand like you didn’t care and you heard him chuckle behind you for the second time that day.


	6. Arvala-7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new friend helps you in your quest for the bounty. The first night in Arvala-7 shows you a softer side of the Mandalorian and you have a serious conversation about why you feel so lost.

Din flew the two of you passed the atmosphere of the rust-colored planet with expert ease. The turbines of the Razor Crest hummed and whirled loudly as Din lowered the gauges and touched down in a puff of sand. You gripped the arm rests of the co-pilot chair and he turned and looked at you in question. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this,” you said with a nervous laugh as you undid the latches on your safety straps and stood shakily. 

“You will.” 

He followed suit and started pushing a few more buttons, shutting down the ship and getting it set to wait patiently for your return. The door hissed open and the two of you awkwardly tried to walk through at the same time, bumping shoulders pretty hard before he relented and motioned you to go ahead with a wave of his hand. 

You paused as he holstered his blaster and thought for a minute before handing a second one to you. You looked down at the weapon before back up to him with widening eyes. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you gawked at first and then took it from him gingerly. It was not nearly as heavy as you expected and you looked it over. “I think I prefer my staff.”

“This is safer,” Din corrected and motioned to where it would clip on the belt at your waist. “You ever shot one before?”

“What do you think?” you answered sarcastically on instinct and then shook your head and bit your lip. “No, I haven't.”

“It’s easy. Just don’t--” he moved the end of the gun to the side with the back of his hand as you held it up to look at it. “Point it at me. Something or someone starts shooting at us, you shoot back.”

“Sounds simple.”

“But if it’s possible...stay down. Let me handle this,” he said, his tone slipping into something a little more protective. 

He wasn’t chastising you or deeming you incapable of handling yourself. He knew you could--you had shown him that by kicking his ass back on your home planet in your first meeting. But he would be able to focus more if he knew he didn’t have to worry about you--if he knew you would make the right choice in an instant. It made sense, but it still made you feel relatively useless, one of your least favorite things to feel. 

He reached for the mechanisms for the door and you spoke up. “Is the air breathable here?”

“Yes, we shouldn’t have a problem. It’s just a bunch of dirt and crags.” 

The door opened and he hit the button to lower the ramp as the heat from the planet rushed into the climate controlled hull of the ship. He was right, there was nothing but dirt, sand, and rocky mountains as far as the eye could see. 

“Lovely,” you said with disdain. 

“I didn’t say we were on vacation,” he said so matter-of-factly that it made you laugh. 

“You know I’m beginning to think you’re secretly funny,” you wagged your finger at him as the two of you walked off the ramp and onto the sands of Arvala. 

“Don’t tell anybody,” he huffed and it made you laugh again.

“Oh, of course not,” you pantomimed locking your lips with an invisible key. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you walked away from the ship as he dug in his pocket and pulled out the tracking fob. The antenna pointed outward and the red light blinked slowly as he scanned the area and waited for the device to begin its quiet beeping. At least you were in the right place, whatever you were looking for was definitely on this planet.

“Hold this,” Din said as he gave you the fob and took his rifle off his back. 

With a slow turn, he scanned the area before bringing the scope to his helmet and looking through it into the distance. You weren’t sure what he was looking for and it took everything you had not to ask. You were operating in the dark. Along for the ride without a map or a clue as to how you could help him or what you should be doing. But for now it seemed your silence and ability to follow basic instructions was enough. 

He spotted something and his movements became more reserved. Peering over the ledge of the rocks, you spotted the dark blobs of large creatures moving off in the horizon. They looked like a giant mouth with small feet--too many teeth and not enough neck. They resembled large and terrifying tadpoles and when one of them shrieked in the valley below it made you jump.

"Goddess, what are those thin--DIN!" 

The Mandalorian shoved you out of the raging path of one of the creatures as it crested over the top of the hill right for you. You hit the dirt hard as the animal knocked the rifle from his hands and took him to the ground with a furious headbutt. He tried to activate the flame thrower on his bracer but the creature chomped down on his arm, splintering the already damaged Beskar and dragging him across the dirt. You looked around wildly for the blaster Din had given you and saw it laying useless a few yards away. 

"AH!" He yelled as he twisted his body and punched the animal square in the temple. Once, twice, three times, and it did nothing against its leathery armored hide. 

You scrambled to grab the blaster and turned around to aim just as something whistled passed your head and into the animal. A dart of some kind pierced its skin and erupted in tiny tendrils of blue lightning before it fell to the ground with a loud thud. Another screech announced the arrival of another animal and Din brought his arm up to protect his body while he lay prone in the dirt. But a second dart whizzed through the air and stopped the creature in its tracks before it could do any damage.You ran to Din's side and knelt down, offering him a hand at getting out from under the massive animal. 

"I'm fine, I'm okay," he reassured you with a grunt of effort as you both looked up at your savior. 

He was a small man, no more than four feet in stature, with a shiny, balding head, a halo of white wispy hair, and big green eyes. He wore a large pair of goggles that day on top of his head and a dirty scarf around his neck. Both of you looked up at him as he towered over you from atop the same kind of creature that had just attacked you, only his had a saddle and a leather head halter. 

"Thank you," you looked up, breathing heavily as Din struggled to sit up and inspected the damage to his armor.

“You are a bounty hunter,” the man stated in a calm tone, looking Din over from helmet to boots. 

The Mandalorian gave a slight nod. “Yes.”

“I will help you,” he said before looking at you and adjusting the reins of his mount. “I have spoken.” He slowly turned the great beast, giving it a gentle nudge with the heels of his boots. You exchanged a quick glance with the man sitting beside you on the ground before you both hurried to your feet to follow the stranger. 

\--

The stranger introduced himself as Kuiil, an Ugnaught that had come to live in the valley of Arvala-7 in search of a peaceful existence. Freedom. His moisture farm was small, but cozy, and provided everything he needed. He had a calming presence around him, a reasonable aura that when he asked the two of you to help him get the sedated animals back to his farm, you were unable to say know. ‘Blurrgs’ he had called them--knowing their name didn’t make them any less ugly. 

You had left the animals in their small shelter to wake up naturally out of the elements as Kuiil took you to his home and invited you in. It was also small, both you and Din having to duck your heads to get through the doorway, and filled with all manner of knick-knacks and junk. He motioned you both to the floor on a seat of cushioned stools at a round table as he waddled over to a cabinet and started taking down cups.

“How long have you and your Omega been here?” he asked, moving to put an old kettle of some sorts on the stove.

“We had just landed when you found us,” Din answered.

“Saved us is more like it,” you said with a small shrug.

“I had it under control,” Din said flatly as he looked at you. 

“Sure you did,” Kuiil said and you bit your lip in order not to laugh. He sprinkled a few scoops of something from a small metal tin into each of the cups before filling them with the water off of the stove. “Many have passed through here. They seek the same one as you.”

“Did you help them?” you asked.

“Yes,” Kuiil nodded as he turned and set a cup in front of each of you. “They died.”

“Well, then I don’t know if I want your help,” Din retorted and you smacked his arm on the cloth of his elbow, careful to avoid the beskar. 

“You do,” Kuiil said as if he hadn’t noticed the other man’s rudeness. “I can show you to the encampment.”

“What's your cut?”

“Half.”

“Half the bounty to guide? Seems steep,” Din said gruffly.

“No. Half of the blurrg you helped capture.” Kuiil took a seat at the table with his own cup and gestured out the open screen door towards the pen that held the animals. 

“The blurrg?” Din asked, unable to keep the mild disdain from his voice at the mention of the animal that tried to eat him a few hours earlier. “You can keep them both.”

“No, you will need one.” Kuiil shook his head. “To ride.” Before either of you could protest, he continued. “The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount.”

“I don't know how to ride a blurrg,” Din shook his head and you joined him in agreement.

“I have spoken.” Kuiil said again with a nod as he gestured to your cups. “Drink and rest--we will try once they wake up.”

\--

Like he had promised, once the tranquilizer had worn off and the beasts were upright once again, Kuiil led you both out to the pen. It was a corral of sorts, made with metal wire and thick poles that had been pounded into the hard ground. The two of you leaned against the railing as Din made his way under the fencing and approached the animal. 

It was quite impressive how many times he had managed to be thrown off the back of the beast in such a short amount of time. He landed on the ground with a dull thud and each time it made you wince and shy back slightly as if you could feel the ache radiating up your back after that many failed attempts. Each time he was a little bit slower to rise and his breath came heavy through the modulator--he was getting tired. The animal stalked around the edge of the pen on its hind legs, holding its stumpy front arms close to its body and growling at the Mandalorian. 

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet!” Kuiil called to him, cupping his tiny hands around his mouth. 

“Perhaps he remembers I tried to roast him!” Din yelled back and on queue, the blurrg stomped over to him with a growl and Din jumped out of the way to avoid its wrath. 

“This is a female,” Kuiil said, nodding to the creature. “The males are all eaten during mating.”

“They might be onto something with that,” you said, crossing your arms under your breasts. You couldn’t help the snicker that came out as Din whipped his head around to look at you with what you could only assume was a hard stare. 

Din stalked over to the animal, his boots making a small cloud of dust with each stomp of determination, and he jumped onto its back once again. He gripped the harness that had been strapped across its back and straddled it the best he could. The creature immediately started bucking. It hopped and growled and thrashed up and down causing Din to jolt from side to side and almost slip off a handful of times before finally being launched forward and landing flat on his back in the dirt. 

He stood quickly this time, his movements jerky with anger as he beat the dust off of his pants and stomped back over to the fence where you stood. 

“I don't have time for this!” he snarled and you felt a shiver go down your spine from the unfamiliar tone in his voice. “Do you have a landspeeder or speeder bike that I could hire?”

Kuiil stood his ground, clearly not concerned with the imposing figure before him. “You are Mandalorian!” he exclaimed. “Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. Surely you can ride this young foal.” He held his hand out to the blurrg that was slowly stalking around on the other side of the pen, its big brown eyes shining in the sunlight as it turned to look at the three of you. 

Din cursed quietly under his breath and glanced at you as you raised your hands up in mock defense. “Don’t look at me. This is all you, soldier.” 

“Fine,” he conceded as he turned on his heel and rolled the tension out of his shoulders. You heard him take a deep breath, blowing it out heavy through his helmet before slowly walking back towards the animal--much more calmly this time. 

The creature blinked at him slowly, blowing out a snort of hot air that blew the dust around the ground below its clawed feet. Din held out his gloved hand as he slowly approached the animal, one careful step in front of the other. It growled, a big gurgling sound from deep within its chest and he stopped moving forward for a moment. 

“Easy. Easy,” he lowered his voice to a much softer tone and you found yourself leaning over the fence slightly. The blurrg gave another low growl and shuffled its feet from side to side. Din took another step towards it and continued to talk. “Now, all right. Settle down.”

You glanced at Kuiil who was watching the scene play out with an approving gaze and nod. You planted your feet a little more firmly on the ground as you felt your heart start to beat in an irregular fashion, as if it couldn’t decide what the rest of your body should be doing right now. The animal drew your attention back to the action as it let out a loud shriek and opened its toothy mouth to growl louder.

“Whoa!” Din pulled his arm back out of instinct before shaking off the adrenaline and putting his hand back out to the animal, much slower this time. “Settle. Settle,” he continued to coo. “That's good. That's good. Easy. Okay.” His hand made contact with the animal's large face and he began to stroke its leathery skin gently. “That's good. All right. You’re okay,” he whispered to it gently as its eyes closed and it rubbed its nose up into the palm of his hand, further seeking his attention. 

You had to close your eyes as the overwhelming need to hop the fence and run to him took over your entire being. This was a different man than you had seen since he touched down on your home planet. This was not the same Mandalorian that you had watched render a man unconscious in the alley. This was...something else. When you looked down, you had actually stepped up onto the first rung without ever remembering doing so and it filled your gut with a sense of panic.

As Din successfully climbed up onto the back of the blurrg, you climbed down from the fence and wrapped your arms around your body as it shivered even in the heat of the panet. Kuiil looked up to you with large, concerned eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you shook your head. “I just...nothing--nothing.” You looked up one last time at the Mandalorian atop his newfound mount before turning back to the small hut across the clearing. You tried your best to walk calmly as everything inside of you was telling you to run. 

\--

Din had practiced riding the blurrg for a few hours before he and Kuiil had returned to the house. They both agreed to let the animals rest the night and head out first thing in the morning. You had tried to insist on camping outside but Kuiil wouldn’t hear of it. He offered the two of you a small room off to the side of the kitchen with a cot and a large stack of blankets. After dinner, your host said goodnight and left the two of you alone for the first time since landing.

“I want you to stay here tomorrow,” Din said, moving to sit on the cot so he could take off his cloak and lay it off to the side.

“I thought you said this was _our_ job?” you gave a retort as you crossed your arms and leaned on the small windowsill across from him.

“It is our job but I will be able to concentrate better--” he stopped as if he realized what he was saying. “I mean--I don’t--”

“Want to babysit?” you raised an eyebrow and asked defensively. 

“That’s not what I said.” 

“Then what? I can handle myself.”

“I know you can.”

“Then what is it?” you pushed him for an explanation and he looked up at you slowly. 

“I can’t be distracted.”

That wasn’t at all what you expected him to say. You lowered your arms, feeling less on edge as you sunk to the floor to sit comfortably and looked up at him instead. “I’m distracting?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry--”

“It’s not your fault,” he cut you off as he leaned over his knees to start undoing the straps and buckles on his boots. 

He may have said he didn’t blame you, but you still felt like he should. Ever since you had watched him with the blurrg, the way he had treated such an angry animal, the way he had done his best to calm her--it had all made your chest feel very heavy, like your heart was made of lead. In a lot of ways, the two of you had been doing a much similar dance since you had met. You the furious, untamed animal, and him doing his best to calm you, to make you feel safe. And how had you received his actions? You had continued to growl and snap and fight him every step of the way. 

You let out a shaky breath and twisted your hands in your lap as you looked out at the stars. Was it too late to start over? Was it too late to swallow your pride and apologize? You were stuck with him for the foreseeable future and if only half of the partnership attempted to find peace, it wasn’t going to be an enjoyable circumstance. You blinked against the hot tears of frustration and wipes at your eyes before they could fall. 

“You can have the cot. I’ll make a pallet on the floor--” he started before pausing in his quest of removing his boots to look at you better. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Din--”

_“Cyar'ika.”_

You weren’t sure what that meant, so you ignored it. “What’s wrong with me?” you gasped in a whisper as the harder you tried to fight your tears, the harder they fought to come out.

Din quickly went to his knees on the floor as he quickly looked you over from top to bottom for injuries. When he found none, he looked back to your face and tilted his helmet. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you said pathetically, but he pressed on.

“Describe it.”

“I ache,” you said before pausing to think over what you were feeling more thoroughly. “But it isn’t my muscles, it feels like my soul--like there’s ice in my chest and it’s seeping out to the rest of my body and making me shiver. I know it sounds stupid--”

“What else?” he asked, not allowing you to voice the absurdity of your current state. 

You took a shaky breath and tried to concentrate on how to convey it to him. “I feel restless. I feel like I want to run until my lungs burst, until my muscles are so sore they can’t feel like this anymore.” 

He listened in silence as you looked at him desperately. Desperate for what, though? For comfort? Relief? A basic understanding? He let out a sigh and quietly started to remove pieces of his armor, starting with the pauldrons and chest-piece, in order to get comfortable enough to sit in front of you. 

“If I tell you what it is, will you promise not to be upset?” he asked carefully as he pulled on each of the fingers of his gloves so he could slide them off. 

“I promise I’ll _try_ ,” you said honestly and he chuckled.

“Good enough. Take off your gloves,” he nodded to your hands as you continued to watch his. 

Seeing his skin, any of it, for the first time felt so surreal. It was a naturally warm sienna and although it was just his hands, you felt like you were looking at something far more scandalous. His fingers were thick and you shut your eyes for a minute before you could dwell more on that new bit of information. You slowly started to peel the soft leather gloves down from your elbows and over your forearm. 

Once they were off and set to the side with his, you looked up and asked, “Now what?”

“Here,” he held those large hands out to you with his palms up, his elbows on his knees for balance. 

“Din--” you started to argue but he shook his head.

“Trust me.”

You hesitated, but your curiosity and his treatment of you thus far won out easily as you put your hands in his and let him curl his fingers around the sides of your palm. Goddess, his hands were big. The warmth you felt from his skin was instant. It moved up your arms and slowly melted the cold ache that had settled in the center of your chest and when you tried to jerk away on instinct he held you a little tighter. 

“Easy. Easy,” he said quietly, in the same one he had used with the blurrg that afternoon. 

You stopped pulling and let him have your hands, forcing yourself to take a deep breath as all the uncomfortable feelings you had described to him continued to fade. You wanted to cry again, but this time it wasn’t out of frustration, it was out of relief. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, clearing your throat lightly. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he said simply. “Well, not on purpose. That thing you were feeling--what you described to me, it’s your Omega.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we keep ourselves closed off from one another for too long, you’re going to get restless. Heightened emotion, anger, aches, a certain level of fogginess--”

“But this has never happened before,” you tried to argue, not liking the idea of not having complete control of your body. 

“We’ve never met until recently,” he shrugged as if it made sense. 

“Is it going to be like this forever? Every time we want distance--I’m going to feel like this?” you asked, hearing your voice turn frantic as panic bubbled in your stomach. 

“The more we practice, the longer we should be able to go before it gets uncomfortable.” He ran his thumbs gently over the sides of your hands and you felt goosebumps go up your entire arm. 

“We? It’s hurting you, too?” you asked, suddenly feeling guilty for the selfish idea that whatever this was between you was a one sided problem. He nodded. “Is it better now?” you asked quietly and he nodded again.

“Yeah.” 

There was a moment where guilt grew inside of you. Like he had said back on Nevarro, he didn’t ask for this either. He didn’t want to make you do any of this just as much as you didn’t want to do it. But maybe there could be a certain level of co-existing, at least for the sake of being able to exist at all. 

You started to let your fingers trail under the edges of his sleeves and you heard him exhale an unsteady breath through the modulator. Would he let you keep touching? You knew the answer to that. His willingness to please you, to let you have what you needed, what you wanted, was so palpable that you could sense it, taste it on the air. Before whatever was inside of you could tempt its way closer to him, you pulled your hands back and cradled them against your chest. It was easier to breathe, to think clearly, and you were grateful for that. What you weren’t grateful for was the overwhelming need to touch him again. 

“That’s better, thank you,” you said quietly, getting up and moving to the cot. The rational side of you was desperate to put as much space between the two of you as possible. 

“You’re welcome.” 

He watched you over his shoulder as you kicked off your shoes and cloak, setting both with your gloves off to the side. Once you were settled, with the blanket pulled up to your waist, he moved to make his pallet out of the blankets and pillows that Kuiil had left in the corner on an old chair. He turned out the light and sighed heavily as stretched out on the floor beside your cot. The room was in total darkness and as you tried to get comfortable you heard a quiet click and the sound of something heavy being set on the floor. 

You bit your lip to keep a whimper inside your mouth as you felt whatever ache it was slowly returning to your chest. It hurt and what made it worse was that now you knew it didn’t have to. He was right there. He was so close. 

You rolled over on your hip, laying partially on your stomach, facing where you knew he was laying on the ground beside you. Cursing every deity you could think of you reached down and laid your hand on his shoulder. As if expecting it, his ungloved hand came up to rest over yours and move it to a more comfortable spot on his chest. The relief you felt was almost instantaneous.

“Is this okay?” you asked him this time and he gave your hand a small squeeze. 

“Of course, _Cyar'ika_ ,” he said. 

There was that name again, at least you thought it was a name. You would have to ask him what it meant in the morning. You closed your eyes and was on the verge of sleep before you realized something else--his voice was different. It was clearer somehow, slightly deeper, as if he was no longer speaking through the modulator. And that’s when it hit you…

He had taken off his helmet. 


	7. A Tiny Green Bounty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din is gone fore much longer than you expected. But when he does return, he has a very surprising stowaway. You have no idea what the hell it is--but it's cute. (updates on Sundays) Sorry I missed last Sunday, guys. Work has been insane and I fell and hurt my shoulder pretty badly so I made myself rest and take the week off from writing. But it’s here now!

The three of you rose with the dawn. Kuiil offered you a small breakfast of dried meats, bread, and more of the delicious tea from the night before. You ate in his company happily, while Din quickly scarfed it in the privacy of your own room where he could once again remove his helmet. 

By the time you had opened your eyes this morning, the Mandalorian had once again covered his face and his appearance was still a mystery. He had diligently held your hand, however, and it was the best night's sleep you had had since leaving home. But you weren't quite ready to address the implications of what that meant. 

The blurrg ride was much smoother than you had originally anticipated. They compared to a few of the other mounts of your homeworld and you’d be lying if you said Din’s annoyance at how gracefully you climbed on top of the animal didn’t bring you some satisfaction. He had had his fair share of being thrown from its back into the dust, and you had the audacity to mount it on the first try. 

The large creatures hopped nimbly over the cracks and divots in the earth and brought you safely to the edge of the hill at the top of another valley. As you looked down at the encampment below, it looked deserted, but you knew better, that's how they wanted it to look. 

"That is where you'll find your quarry," Kuiil said, gesturing out with his arm to the small set of buildings and tents. 

Din tried to hand him a small coin purse of credits and the Urganaught shook his head in refusal. "Please," the Mandalorian said gently. "You deserve this."

Kuiil shook his head again. “Since these ones arrived, this territory has been an endless stream of mercenaries seeking reward and bringing destruction.” He looked out over the horizon with a distant stare of longing.

“Then why did you guide me?”

“They do not belong here. Those that live here come to seek peace. There will be no peace until they are gone.” He gave a nod and readjusted himself on the back of his mount.

“Then why do you help?” Din tilted his helmet. 

“I have never met a Mandalorian,” Kuiil said, turning to look at Din with an appreciating glance. “I’ve only read the stories. If they are true, you will make quick work of it. Then there will again be peace.”

“Thank you,” Din said with a nod and the small man returned it.

“I have spoken,” Kuiil declared softly and pulled the reins up on his blurrg. The creature slowly lumbered away from the two of you as if he knew you would follow when you were ready. You looked down at the Mandalorian standing beside your mount and swallowed hard. 

“I want to go with you,” you tried. “I can help.”

“Not this time,” Din shook his head again. 

"You'll be okay, right?" You asked before you could stop yourself.

He turned his helmet towards you. "Worried about me?"

"You promised me a new life on much prettier planets--if you die now that means I'm stuck here. And that isn't what I had in mind." You gave an exaggerated scoff so he knew you were joking and you heard the quiet rumble of his laugh through the modulator. 

"Ahh, yes. That makes more sense." He paused as he looked at you before slowly taking off his glove and offering you his bare hand like the night before. You took it. "Stay with Kuiil. Stay safe. Be _patient_. I'll be back before you know it."

He said _‘patient’_ like he knew you weren’t a patient woman. His sheer nerve of claiming to know you so intimately at times fueled the dying coals of anger that you still felt for him. Did he know you? He had accepted whatever this was long before you had--did that give him an advantage? That thought also made you mad. You took a deep breath and sat up straight in your saddle as he turned to walk away. 

“Din, wait--” 

He stopped and turned back to you, waiting patiently for whatever was so important. 

“What does _Cyar'ika_ mean?” you asked against your better judgement. The tension in his shoulders made you feel as if maybe you didn’t want to know. Was it insulting? Or was it endearment? You couldn’t decide which one would be worse.

He heaved a heavy sigh and took a few steps closer to you so he could keep his voice low and even. “Formally? It means _‘beloved’_. Informally?” he looked at you with a short pause. “It means _‘sweetheart’_.”

“Oh.”

Your stomach plummeted, making your insides churn with emotion that you were not prepared for in the slightest. The way you felt when he looked at you and said such things, it was as if you could feel all of your animosity towards him fading down your face, over your chest and out your fingertips. How was this so easy for him? 

Apparently you had stayed silent long enough because his shoulders dropped and he turned away from you. His name sat on the tip of your tongue and you leaned forward on your mount as if you wanted to follow after him. He promised he would be back and you wanted to believe him. 

You also realized with a hammering heart that you wanted to hear him call you _Cyar'ika_ again.

\--

Two days. 

The Mandalorian had been gone for two days. The job he had assured you would be quick had turned into watching the sun set and rise and set again without any sign of the only friend you had. Friend? Partner? Alpha? Whatever he was, until he decided to crest over the top of the sand dune on the horizon, you were stuck here. 

Kuiil had been more than hospitable. He tried to be comforting, although years without the practice of company had meant his idea of consoling you was to keep you occupied. He probably figured if your hands were busy, then your mind was not--which was not at all the case. However, you helped him tend to the blurrgs, absentmindedly handed him tools while he repaired the rain gatherers, and kept him company in the evenings as he made you both tea and shared his stories. 

“If he does not return, you are welcome here,” he said one night as he hobbled away from the stove and handed you your plate. 

“Thank you,” you said, feeling your throat tighten. He was right. You might have to start entertaining the idea of Din being hurt, or worse, never coming back. “But he--he’ll be back.”

“I have spoken,” Kuiil nodded and took his seat across from you. 

Staying on a farm in the middle of nowhere wasn’t exactly what you wanted. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t know what you wanted. You had spent almost two weeks trying to distance yourself from the Mandalorian and now that you had gotten your wish you were miserable. You needed to tell him. Tell him that you didn’t blame him for this, that it wasn’t his fault that the universe didn’t give a shit about what either of you wanted. Tell him that his company wasn’t horrible and that you preferred it to being alone in the galaxy. Fuck. 

You set your cup down and looked at Kuiil. “I’m sorry--excuse me.” 

You stood up quickly and tried to keep your pace normal so you didn’t alarm your host. You needed air. You needed to breathe, to be alone. Your stomach hurt. The entire center of your body ached as you threw your cloak around your shoulders and ran out into the door and into the night. 

The material smelled like him, like your alpha, and the warmth that pooled in your gut only made you ache more as you dropped to your knees in the sand and wretched. What was happening to you? You wanted to take off your clothes and wrap the cloak around your naked body. To feel him in the only way you could, to be surrounded and consumed. But at the same time you wanted to toss it away from you and get every speck of his scent out of your nostrils. 

“Keep it together--” you tried as you forced your heart to beat normally with one restrained shaky breath after another. It wasn’t working. Whatever this newfound animalistic feeling inside of you was, it terrified you. This wasn’t you. 

“F-fuck,” you wretched again, gagging as nothing came out but a bit of bile and spit. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. It was still unsteady but it was something. Your hands shook and you shoved them into the sand, still warm from the heat of the day. The particles fell through your fingers and you balled them into fists and screamed. It felt good to scream, to release that energy into a loud noise that carried away from you and disappeared in the breeze. 

_Cyar'ika._

_Beloved._

_Cyar'ika._

_Sweetheart._

You tried to remember the way his voice had formed the words but you couldn’t so you continued to scream. 

\--

Kuiil hadn’t said a word as you came back into the circle of the farm with red eyes, and sand-irritated knuckles. He had lowered his goggles and climbed up onto one of the small turbines that caught the wind that powered his machines. He paused as you looked up at him, arms tightly wrapped around your chest, gripping the tattered cloak.

“Need a hand?” you said meekly, embarrassed by the possibility that he witnessed your manic outburst. 

“No need,” he shook his head and exchanged tools from his pouch. “But you might look elsewhere.” He pointed his small hand behind the both of you and your gaze followed the direction of his finger. 

Your mind hoped what you wouldn’t allow your heart to, but sure enough, a cloaked figure topped the furthest dune on the horizon. You waited for the shadow of his outline to get closer, to prove that it was really him, before you let relief was over you and you took off at a quick pace. 

He looked tired, dragging his feet like they weighed a ton each as he slowly made his way closer to his destination. It took you no time at all to catch up to where he was, and you could tell the speed of your incoming startled and confused him by the tilt of his helmet. He paused, bracing his feet in a wider stance as you got closer.

“Hey--OOF!” 

The air left his lungs as you hit him at almost full speed and he tried to catch you enough to prevent your body from colliding with the beskar. You gripped his arms as his hands settled at your waist and looked down at you. You wanted to scream at him the way you had screamed at the sand. You wanted to shake him, and slap him, and also...get him as close as possible. You heard him suck in a sharp breath and tense but you were too caught up in your own conflicted emotions to care. 

“Easy, easy,” he groaned as you clutched him and he tried to keep you both upright.

“What happened?? I thought you weren’t coming back--” you blurted but stopped short as you looked him over and saw the wound on his arm. “You’re hurt.”

“Just a scratch,” he shook his head and released you slowly.

“Din, I’m serious, what happened?” you kept your voice quiet so you could use his real name. 

“I’ll tell you. Let’s get inside,” he urged you forward but you didn’t move.

“But--” you started to argue but he shook his head.

“I’m fine. I promise,” he turned you back towards the farm and the two of you entered the encampment where Kuiil continued to work. It was only then that you realized the floating orb that was following closely behind the Mandalorian. 

“I thought you were dead,” Kuiil said without looking up from the sparks of his welder against the metal of the turbine. He slowly climbed down and Din turned to pull something out of the floating, metal orb. He pulled back the blankets and placed it on the ground where it started to waddle in front of him.

“What is _that_?” you asked as the tiny green creature caught itself on the ground. Its undeveloped legs paired with the burlap sack that it was wearing as a coat made it unstable to say the least. It had big, dark eyes, and even larger green, pointed ears and was like nothing you had ever seen before. 

“The bounty,” Din said as he flipped open the control panel on one of his bracers and started fiddling with the broken parts. Kuiil picked up a small tool from his work bench and held it out to the Mandalorian who nodded his head in thanks. 

“This is what was causing all the fuss?” he asked and Din nodded again. 

“I think it’s a child.”

“You think?” You took a step towards the creature and it cooed before waddling off in a different direction. “What would anyone want with a child? Was it alone?”

“I don’t know. And yes.”

“It is better to deliver it alive then,” Kuill nodded his approval. 

“We got a different problem,” Din said curtly as he looked up from his work to Kuiil. “My ship has been destroyed. We’re trapped here.” He looked back to you and before you could ask what he meant, Kuiil continued. 

“Stripped. Not destroyed.” He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the much taller man. “The Jawas steal. They don’t destroy.”

“The Razor Crest is gone?” you asked with wide eyes as you looked between the two men. 

“Stolen or destroyed, it makes no difference to me,” Din said, his voice becoming increasingly irritated and it sent a chill down your spine. “They’re protected by their crawling fortress. There is no way to recover the parts.”

“So, you’re saying we’re stuck here?” you stepped closer to him, not wanting to believe what he was saying. He was back and your fate was still pretty much the same--stranded. 

“Looks like it.” He glanced up at you before giving a pained hiss and looking back down to his arm where the leather material at his elbow was torn and bloody. 

You moved to touch his arm gently and this time he let you as you looked over the wound and the frayed fabric of his sleeve. It was most likely from some sort of blaster. The wound was about the size of the circle you made when you touched your thumb to your pointer finger. The edges of his skin were almost cauterized and the blood had long dried--he was probably right in the fact that he was okay, but it still looked painful. 

The two of you looked to the ground as the child squealed and chased after a hopping frog. His little green arms were outstretched towards the creature as his tiny legs tripped over his baggy clothes, making him stumble a bit. Despite its alarmingly unique nature, it was actually kind of cute and resembled the animal it was currently in pursuit of. 

“You could trade,” Kuiil spoke up, interrupting your thoughts. 

“With Jawas? Are you out of your mind?” Din snapped but Kuiil waved him away. 

“I will take you to them,” he said as he turned around and made his way back to his work bench. “I have spoken.”

The child squealed again and pounced on the frog just as it was about to hop away. He stood slowly with the creature in his tiny claws and proceeded to stuff it into his mouth and swallow it whole. 

“Oh!” you gasped as you watched the frogs webbed feet disappear down the child’s throat. 

“Hey!” Din whirled around and pointed to him. “Spit that out!”

The child gave a big gulp and smiled up at Din, its two front teeth being the only ones that were currently visible as it let out a long belch and giggled. The Mandalorian and you exchanged a look before looking back to the tiny green bounty and something told you, you both were in way over your heads.

\--

The two of you stood in the spare room that Kuiil had offered you and for the first time in almost three days you felt a little more at peace. The idea that it was because Din was back was obvious but it wasn’t something you necessarily wanted to dissect. Knowing that it was possibly going to be like this forever, the knowledge that any time the two of you put some distance between you it was going to throw your body into a panic--fuck. You _really_ didn’t want to think about that.

You leaned with his cloak still wrapped around you, watching as the small, green child slept peacefully in its floating orb of a bassinet. “It’s kinda cute--don’t you think?” you asked as Din sat down on the cot and started taking off his boots. 

“I didn’t really think about it,” Din replied gruffly and you looked over your shoulder at him. 

“Come on,” you urged him. “Those big eyes and tiny hands--I think he’s cute.”

“Well, you can’t keep it.”

“What do you think they want with it? The person who gave you the job that is--” you started and Din dropped his boots with a heavy thud, interrupting you. 

“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t ask.” He stood up and got close enough to touch you, looking down at you with his shiny helmet as he pointed a gloved finger at you. “Don’t ask questions about a bounty and don’t get attached--number one rule.”

“Oh, so if you act like it's a package then it makes all of this less real? It’s a _child_ , Din. What--” you stopped as realization dawned on you and you watched him move stiffly to take off his pauldrons one at a time. “You think they’re going to kill it, don’t you?”

“If that was the case then they wouldn’t have told me to bring it in alive.” His words made sense but you knew there was something he wasn’t telling you, something he was leaving out. Before you could continue to argue, he finished taking off his chest plate and sat on his pile of blankets on the floor. “You should get some sleep. We will have to head out in a couple of hours.”

“Let me look at your arm,” you said as he was midway through taking off his shirt.

“It’s fine.”

“Are you always this stubborn?” you asked, picking up the clean cloth and herb water that Kuiil had left on the table. You sat on the cot and held out your hand. “Arm, please.”

He begrudgingly held it out to you, letting his elbow balance on his bent knee to keep it steady and elevated for you. “It’s already cauterized.”

“Oh, I can see that. You do it yourself? Because it’s a hack job and definitely going to scar,” you chastised as you dipped the cloth in the glass bottle, typing it over back and forth gently to saturate the end. 

“I got plenty of those,” he said, wincing as you pressed the cleanser to the wound. 

“I can see that,” you mumbled, letting your eyes glance over his bare chest. He had beautiful skin, but it was marred by a barrage of scars, large and small, old and new. They mapped out an interesting pattern of stars that held many stories. You wanted to touch them so badly your hands twitched, but you gave your lip a hard bite, using the pain to distract you as you focused on your work. 

Your fingers held his arm gently and it seemed that everywhere the two of you touched, hummed with unspoken energy. Carefully washing away the dirt and debris from the wound, you let your hand travel up from the bend of his elbow to his shoulder and back down. It wasn’t until he spoke that you realized you had been doing it for longer than you intended and you nearly dropped the bottle in embarrassment. 

“What?” you asked, trying to play off the fact that his skin had you so entranced you had lost a moment of time. 

“I said,” he cleared his throat and you could hear the smile hidden by his helmet. “I think it’s clean.”

“Ah, yes, right--good,” you nodded, corking the bottle and putting everything back on the table before scrambling back into the cot and away from him. Distance. A reasonable amount of distance was key it seemed. 

“Thank you,” he offered and you nodded in return, quickly changing the subject. 

“Kuiil’s taking us to the Jawas, right? To get your parts back.” You sat on the cot and laid on your side, looking at him and using the cloak as a blanket. 

“Yes.” 

You were silent for a minute as you thought about that. Din laid back with a heavy sigh and you propped your head in your hand as you looked down at him. “What’s a Jawa?”

He laced his fingers on his chest and seemed to be thinking. “It’s--well, they’re--small?” He struggled and you felt your lips twitch into a grin.

“What do they look like?”

“Short,” he corrected. “They have black hair and skin, I think.”

“You think?”

“They wear hoods and robes, so I’ve never seen one naked.” 

The matter of fact way he said that made you laugh so abruptly you gave a small snort and clapped your hand over your mouth. He chuckled quietly beside you as you regained your composure. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“They’re short, scrappy--speak their own language. They have yellow eyes, bright yellow eyes, you can see them for miles. And they’re thieves,” he crossed his arms over his chest and settled back onto the pillow as you clicked off the light and blinked against the complete darkness of the room. “If you have it--they want it.”

“Mhm,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see as you settled against the pillow and looked at where the outline of his body was. You were quiet for a few moments and waited for the soft hiss of his helmet coming off as he thought you had fallen asleep. “Din?” 

He froze. He waited another moment before answering quietly, “Yes?” 

“What color are _your_ eyes?”

The fact that you hadn’t thought to ask shocked you just as much as the question itself seemed to shock him. He had mentioned the yellow eyes of the Jawas and it suddenly occurred to you that his could be the same color, or any color for that matter. They could be big like Kuiil’s or kind like your mother’s--your mind was racing with the possibilities of what exactly lay beneath that helmet. You had no idea, so you had to ask. 

“They’re brown.” 

“What about your hair?” you asked almost timidly as if the information was too personal. 

“It’s also brown, a few grays here and there,” he answered honestly and you bit your lip as you tried to imagine what he looked like. Was he as handsome as he sounded? Did it matter? “I’m sorry that I worried you--by being gone longer than I intended.”

“I wasn’t worried,” you responded out of habit and you heard the smile in his voice once again without having to see it.

“Right. So, you nearly knocked me down because...?” 

“I told you,” you continued to bluff your way through the conversation. “This is not the planet I want to be stranded on--you promised me somewhere nice.”

“Ah. I see.” He cleared his throat and waited a beat before he continued. “How was your Omega? While I was gone, that is.”

“Fine.”

“You’re a really bad liar.”

As if he summoned the emotion just by mentioning it, your stomach twisted into a knot and you balled the cloak up a bit and hugged it tightly as you rolled over and faced away from him. “I don’t want to talk about it.” If you didn’t want to give him the details, you could at least give him a little honesty. 

“Alright. We don’t have to,” he said, almost in a whisper. “We should sleep anyway.”

It was almost as if you kept hurting his feelings without meaning to and you wished you knew how to make it better. But you were trying more than you were two weeks ago and that had to count for something. You shut your eyes tightly and tried to focus on anything other than the fact that the Mandalorian was laying next to you for the first time in two nights--and he smelled so good. 

\--

You weren’t entirely sure when it had started storming but the crack of thunder and lightning flashing behind the thick drapes woke you with a jolt. Your heart hammered and your pulse raced as you looked over at the small, green child and thankfully it was still asleep. For something with ears that massive, you would have thought the noise would have it awake and screaming. 

You had been dreaming; of what you couldn’t remember but whatever it was had made your heart race. It was hard to breathe, as if the pressure change from the storm had sucked the air from the room and left you gasping. Swinging your legs over the bed, you stood up with the intent of getting some water, somewhere where you could turn on a light--anything. Your panic made it all too easy to forget the man sleeping directly beneath you. 

A loud grunt came from the floor as you tripped over the Mandalorian’s bare chest and tried to catch yourself before you landed on your face. His hand shot out and gripped your side, while the other grabbed your thigh in a desperate attempt to keep you from hurting yourself or from hurting him more than you already had. 

“S-shit!” you squeaked as you landed on his body, practically straddling him as you put your hands on his chest for balance. “I’m sorry! Din--are you--did I step on you?”

“Just a little,” he groaned as he moved his hands to rest on your waist and keep you still while he recovered. Moving his hand away from your hip, he scrambled for his helmet and you could sense the rising panic within him. 

“I can’t see. I promise--I can’t see anything,” you quickly blurted. It was the truth. Despite the storm, the room was still so dark that in the shadows you truly couldn’t see his face. 

“O-okay,” he said, still pulling his helmet towards him, just more slowly. As a safety measure. 

His chest heaved with the recovery of your fumble and neither of you dared to move as his hand settled back on your hip and you continued to rest your palms on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat under your fingertips, steady, rhythmic, comforting. You moved your left hand up slowly, waiting for him to stop you before you reached his neck, but he didn’t. Sliding your fingers up to his jaw, you gently traced the sparse stubble that speckled his face. 

“ _Cyar'ika_ …” he said quietly and you swore you stopped breathing. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop calling you that if it makes you--”

“No!” you said far too abruptly and put your fingers over where you thought his mouth would be. You weren’t off by much and you moved from the edge of his lips to the center gently. “I mean...it’s fine.”

“Alright,” he said, his words were careful and his body remained still, as if anything he did would scare you off. He was probably right. 

He adjusted his hands on your hips again and you couldn’t help but notice how soft his lips were. You could imagine his pout, the way he pushed them out a fraction of an inch as if to kiss your hand. The simple action made you shiver. You had never been so close and it was as if you couldn’t remember why you had ever been so afraid, so opposed to the man under you. 

“Tell me to get off,” you said and you felt him shake his head.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“Then shove me away,” you almost begged as you realized you weren’t strong enough to do it on your own.

“No.”

You wanted him. It was about time you stopped lying to yourself. This was your new life, your new reality, and you wanted him. He had been patient and sweet, defying the preconceived ideas you had as soon as you saw him land on your homeworld. This was all about as much his fault as it was yours. The blame lay elsewhere, with a faceless entity that you could control just about as much as you could change. 

Constellations be damned. Fate be damned. 

You leaned down and knew without a doubt that you would kiss him. Instead of just your fingers, you wanted to feel his lips with your own and you couldn’t sense any complaint or hesitation from him. He raised up to meet you and without your sight the two of you clashed mouths a little harder than intended. You both made a soft sound but before you could continue a knock came at the door and he gripped you. Din froze as you both waited for Kuiil to speak.

“Time to leave,” he said through the wooden barrier. “I have spoken.”

You sat back up, pushing away slowly from Din’s chest. His hands left your hips and you heard the quiet hiss of his helmet as he put it securely back over his head. You climbed back onto the cot and flopped your hand around on the nightstand for the light. Your stomach sat in knots as you watched him get up gracefully and start pulling on his armor in silence. He didn’t even look at you. Whatever had just happened was over before it had a chance to begin.


	8. One Thing At A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two..err..three of you turn to the Jawas for Din's stolen parts. You and Din slowly start to reach a new understanding with a kind gesture and simple conversation. A seemingly easy task leaves you both scrambling to protect the other when the Child uses his strange gift to protect you both.

You refused to be left behind again. And contrary to your expectations, the Mandalorian didn’t argue when you said you were coming along. He seemed almost...relieved. 

The blurrg traveled slowly but steady through the pouring rain. The lights attached to the sides of the saddle cut through the dark just enough to see a path. You stayed close to Din in the back of the floating cart that Kuiil had hitched to his mount for the eventual retrieval of the stolen parts. You had lost count of how many times you had dozed off, leaning your head against the Mandalorian’s shoulder before jerking awake and sitting up, only to repeat the process a few moments later. It didn’t seem to bother him. 

The cloak kept you dry for the most part but the chill of the rain started to seep into your bones as the sky started to glow a periwinkle blue with the approaching dawn. A soft coo brought your gaze down between your feet. 

“Oh,” you said gently as the tiny green child caught itself against your leg and looked up at you with its big, glassy eyes. “Hello, little one.” You bent to pick him up and put him on your knee and he tilted his head. His large ears wiggled in the mist as he returned your smile.

“He’s good at getting out of that thing,” Din nodded to the pram that sat off to his right on the cart.

“He’s got things to do. Isn’t that right?” you asked and the child made a happy sound.

“He likes to get into trouble.”

“He’s strong willed,” you said as the child took your finger in his small, clawed hand.

“The two of you should get along great,” the Mandalorian mumbled and you gave him a thin-lipped, unimpressed look. 

You knew his quip at you was in good nature, or at least you hoped it was. More than anything you wanted to talk to him about what had happened back at Kuiil’s house. You wanted to talk about the kiss--if that’s even what you could call it. It was more of a clash of mouths than anything remotely intimate. It was over too quickly for you to be analyzing it this much but here you sat, giving him sideways glances and wondering if he had felt the same turning of his gut that you had. 

“Mando?” you asked, foregoing his real name due to the mixed company. 

“Hmm?” 

You looked over at him, turning your body so you could see him completely now that the sky around you was getting light enough to make out more than just shapes. “Is it true that you can’t take off your helmet?”

“You’ve seen me take it off twice to sleep now,” he said, flatly. 

“You know what I mean.” You watched him carefully as his shoulders stiffened and he looked at the child now sleeping peacefully in your lap. 

“No living thing can see my face--or I won’t be a Mandalorian anymore.”

“But I thought--”

“Let me finish,” he cut you off patiently and you stopped talking. “No living thing can see my face, except my Omega.”

His Omega. He didn’t say ‘you’. Since he set foot on your planet, you had been adamant about denying him such a title so, it was only fair that he returned the favor. Your outright refusal of his companionship, meant that you didn’t get to reap the rewards only offered to his partner. It followed the old adage of not being able to have your cake and eat it too. Until, if ever, you accepted your role, you were just like any other living being. 

“Why do I feel like I should apologize?” you said honestly. When in doubt, honesty seemed to be the best choice with him. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he shook his head and looked forward.

“But still--”

“This is not the place for this conversation,” he ended the exchange and you bit your lip. 

He was right. With Kuiil within earshot and the child in your lap, you should be more careful about the topics of discussion you chose, but you couldn’t help it. With the taste of his mouth still on your lips, you wanted to talk about it. Convince me. You thought over and over in his direction as if he could hear you. With a scrambled mind but a clear heart, you wanted him to convince you that he was the right path for you. If he stated his case, gave you a gentle nudge in his direction, then maybe you could both get what you wanted. 

\--

The sun had come up by the time you reached what you could only assume was what Din had referred to as ‘the crawling fortress’. It was one of the most massive structures you had ever seen, made entirely of metal, and giant gears that allowed it to literally crawl through the sands of the desert. Just like he had described, small creatures wearing robes, no more than a couple feet tall, were milling about the open drawbridge of the fortress and sifting through what appeared to be massive piles of junk and scrap. Amidst all of the metal and garbage, were pieces of the Razor Crest. 

You set the child back down so he could lean on the edge of the cart and take in his surroundings. His wide eyes looked every way he could as his ears wiggled in excitement and he looked back at the two of you, seeking reassurance. You gave him a smile and he went back to observing. 

“Greetings!” Kuiil waved to the Jawas that were moseying around their temporary camp. A few of them waved, but as soon as they laid eyes on the Mandalorian they scattered, screamed, and all pulled their blasters. “They really don’t like you for some reason,” Kuiil lowered his voice and spoke over his shoulder to the other man. 

“Well, I did disintegrate a few of them,” Din said flatly and you looked at him with wide eyes. He turned his helmet towards you and shrugged his shoulders. 

“You need to drop your rifle,” Kuiil instructed, gesturing to the long gun that lay across Din’s lap.

“I'm a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you scoffed, quietly and even through the helmet you could see the shock in his body. 

“Then you're not getting your parts back,” Kuiil chided as he slid down the back of the blurrg from his saddle. 

Din sighed heavily and set the rifle down along the side of the cart where it could be carefully hidden from the thieving hands of the Jawas. “Fine.” He swung his leg over the edge of the cart and hopped down, waiting a beat before offering you his gloved hand. You took it with a small smile and climbed down beside him. 

The Jawas started shrieking in protest and the two of you looked at Kuiil who put his hands on his hips and nodded to Din’s belt. “And the blaster.”

The Mandalorian cursed quietly through gritted teeth and pulled the blaster from his belt. He turned to face you and pulled you flush against his body. Looking up, you could see the skin of his neck under his helmet and hear his breath. You put your hands on his beskar-covered chest as he jerked your cloak back and shoved the blaster in your belt at the small of your back. 

“Din!” you hissed, quietly as you felt the cold steel touch your bare skin. 

“Shh,” he hushed you as he tried to make the moment look friendly to the onlookers. “The safety is on. One of us should be armed.” He pulled the cloak back down into place and gave your backside a couple of firm pats, causing the Jawas to snicker and your face to burn hot. 

"Won't they know?" You asked, feeling guilty for tricking the Jawas.

"Only if you tell them."

You eyed him carefully as the three of you sat down in the dirt in front of what you could only assume was some kind of leader figure of the Jawas. The creature tucked its robes under its knees, tiny hands folded in their lap. You mirrored him as Kuiil followed suit, comfortably crossing his legs while Din plopped ungracefully in his heavy armor with a thud of dust. The Jawas snickered again and you saw Din clench his fist. Without thinking, you reached over and put your hand on his knee. Din turned his helmet towards you but before he could say anything the Jawa started to speak. 

It pointed frantically at Din before turning to the smaller man on your right. _“Yukusu kenza keena. Etee uwanna waa,”_ it crossed its arms and blinked big yellow eyes at Kuiil who turned to the two of you.

“They will trade all the parts for the beskar.” Kuiil said in a lowered voice and you looked at him in surprise.

“That seems unfair--” you started.

“I'm not gonna trade anything. These are my parts!” Din said in anger as he pointed to the Jawas and then to himself, tapping his beskar-covered chest with his finger. “They stole them from me! _Mom-bay m’bwa--...tandi...t-tandi kwa!”_

Din stuttered through the last phrases in the language the Jawa understood. You had no idea what he said and despite his unfamiliarity with the words, it was better than anything you could have done. The creatures all giggled, holding their bellies and pointing at Din as their leader spoke again, some of them covered their mouths in laughter. Kuiil groaned and looked at the Mandalorian. 

“They said, ‘you speak terrible Jawa. You sound like a Wookiee.’” Kuiil translated. 

“You understand this?!” Din raised his voice and lifted his arm, smacking the trigger on his vambrace and activating the flamethrower on his wrist. 

“Mando!” you scolded, moving your grip to his arm and lowering it as the flame died down. Calm. Think calming thoughts. You adjusted your grip on him to something softer and tried to mimic what he had done with you before. You took a deep breath and reached out to him--but nothing happened. 

“No! Whoa, easy, easy,” Kuiil cautioned, waving his hands at the other man before turning back to the creatures. “He is Mandalorian. He cannot give you his beskar armor,” he pointed again before returning his hands to his lap with a shrug. “What else may he trade?”

The Jawa mumbled something, tapping its chin as if thinking to himself before pointing behind all of you at the cart. You turn over your shoulder and see the big ears of the child wiggling with interest as he leans over the edge of the cart and two other Jawas inspect him.

“No!”

“Get away from it!” 

You and Din yelled in unison and the creatures scattered back to their group, closer to the fortress. 

“There must be something else,” Kuill offered again, looking back at the leader.

The small humanoids bent forward and put their heads together, mumbling and grumbling in thought as they discussed what they could demand. A group of nods began as they pulled apart and crossed their arms and the leader addressed Kuiil.

_“Yukusu kenza keena, Suka!”_ he exclaimed with his small hands up in the air.

Kuiil let out a perturbed groan and put his head in his hands. You looked between him and Din, “What did it say?”

“The Egg? What Egg?” Din asked, being able to roughly translate bits and pieces for you both.

_“Suka! Suka! Suka! Suka!”_

All of the Jawa started jumping and chanting as they threw their tiny arms in the air and waved you all towards the crawling fortress. Din stood with a strong fluid motion and held his hand down to you. You graciously took it and dusted off your pants after he pulled you up. 

“An egg? And that’s a fair trade?” You crossed your arms and looked at the dancing cluster of robes in confusion.

“Don’t try to understand their bartering system--you know what they say about one mans trash being a Jawas treasure.”

No, you had never heard such a thing. You didn't even know what a Jawa was until last night. “I guess we’re going with them?”

“I guess,” he grumbled as Kuiil took off after the group, expecting you to follow.

\--

It was hard to hear yourself think, much less speak over the roar of the engines and the clanking of the gears within the mechanical monster that the Jawas called a home. You had diligently climbed the stairs up into the main hull to look out of the windshield over the shoulder of the Mandalorian. 

The sands parted to its massive form and the Jawas steered it in a way that was almost funny. The extensive dashboard and controls of the crawler stretched wide enough that it took three Jawas to pilot it, tiny hands jamming buttons, pulling levers, and taking turns holding the wheel. You allowed yourself to lean against Din, your hand on his shoulder for balance as you rocked back and forth with each bump in the dunes, telling yourself it was only because it was cramped in the cockpit and you didn’t want to fall. 

With a jerk of a giant lever the fortress came to a halt and Din held his arm out in front of you against your chest to keep you from going through the glass accidentally. The Jawas started speaking rapidly, hopping down from their seats and waving their arms and ushering the four of you out of the cockpit and back into the main hull. 

“Easy, easy--don’t touch--” Din warned one of them with a stern waggle of his finger as one used a motion of guidance as an excuse to touch his valuable beskar. The small creature shrieked something unkind in his direction before scattering off to help the others lower the drawbridge. 

The warm wind blew into the ship and the grit of sand bit at your face and rippled your clothing. Din snapped his fingers and tried to argue with another creature, pointing at something and then gesturing to you. 

“What’s it saying?” you asked and Din grumbled before the creature walked off to grab something from the wall. 

“His prices are too steep,” he said gruffly, shoving his hand in his pocket and flipping a credit chit to one of the Jawas. 

You started to ask what he meant but you looked up as the Jawa came back into view holding a long fighting staff, not unlike the one that you used to best him back on your homeworld. “Mando,” you said, wishing you could address him properly as he took it from the Jawa and held it out to you. 

“You’re coming with me--promise not to use this to kick my ass again and it’s yours.” He chuckled under the helmet but you could hear the sincerity in his voice. 

The gold ends tapered off in the middle to a dense metal that was poorly wrapped for grip, but it was fixable. The strap that allowed you to sling it across your back was still intact and you weighed it carefully in your hands before doing so and giving him a warm smile. 

“Thank you.”

He nodded. He pressed a button on his vambrace and the metal orb carrying the child floated towards him as the three of you walked down the ramp and onto the sands. 

“We’ll be waiting,” Kuiil nodded towards you as he tucked his thumbs into his belt. “I have spoken.”

If the two of you ever got off this planet you would be content never seeing sand again in your life. However achievable that was or not, you missed the lush, green forests of home. You missed the waters and hillsides and moss-covered rocks that sat quietly under blue skies. This was definitely not somewhere you wanted to be forever. You glanced back over your shoulder at the baby sitting comfortably among his blankets, watching its surroundings with quiet interest. 

“You think it’s a good idea to bring him?” you asked, nodding over your shoulder and back to the orb. 

“A lot of people are looking for him. He’s safer with us.” Din slid down a small dune and waited for you to follow suit. 

“A lot of people?” you asked, brow scrunching in confusion. “I thought you were the only one that took the job.”

“Apparently the client didn’t want to put all of his porgs in one pot.”

“So, he hired multiple bounty hunters and whoever brings him the kid gets the prize?” 

“You got it.”

Your jaw tightened as you shook your head and glanced back at the kid again. “I don’t like that. What could he possibly want with it?”

“Hey--” Din stopped short and turned his helmet towards you. “What did I say? Don’t ask--”

“Come on,” you cut him off and stood your ground. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to know. Karga said you’re the best there is--you don’t hire the best and then cast your net wide and hire others. That’s shady--this whole thing is shady.”

“What part of ‘Underworld’ isn’t clicking for you?” he said sharply and you stopped short.

“Excuse you?”

“I’m sorry.” Din put his hands on his hips and was quiet for a minute before he nodded slowly. “It’s shady--you’re right, it is. But a lot of the jobs that pay the most are--can you handle that?”

The two of you stared at each other as you contemplated the answer to his question. It was such a loaded statement. He wasn’t just asking you to handle his profession, the sketchy clientele, he was asking you to handle him, his Mandalorian, his alpha--could you? Removing the idea that you didn’t have much of a choice, you looked up into your reflection in his helmet and for the first time thought...yes, you could. 

“One thing at a time,” you said quietly. “Let’s get this egg, fix your ship, and get the hell out of here.”

“One thing at a time,” he agreed and the two of you started back up the dune and down into the valley over the crest. 

The cracked earth of before got softer beneath your feet. It was forebodingly littered with rocks, bone fragments, and dead plants.. You both started walking slower as you saw a cave embedded in the side of a dune. The dark mouth gaped wide and imposing before the earth seemed to swallow it whole and all you could see was black. The surrounding perimeter was muddy, trampled down by large footprints of the current occupant coming and going. There was obviously water somewhere--buried below ground where it was protected from the sun and allowed to stay cool and damp. 

“Is the egg in there?” you asked, pulling your new staff from your back and holding it in your dominant hand. You stepped carefully into the mud, not wanting to slip. 

“That’s what the Jawas said.” 

“Did they say exactly _what_ the egg belongs to?” you glanced at him before back to the cave.

“Nope.”

“Helpful.” You rolled your eyes and stopped as Din motioned for you to let him take point. So far the only animals you had seen were the tiny sand lizards and the blurrgs. Did blurrgs lay eggs? It seemed unlikely, then again, what did you know? This was all new and uncharted territory. 

“I’m going to go in. Take a look around--make sure nobody’s home,” Din breathed as he bent slightly and continued to creep closer. 

“And what would you like me to do?” you asked.

“Stay here--watch the kid. And If I come out in a hurry, get ready to run.” 

“I can do that,” you nodded and adjusted your grip on the staff. When you didn’t argue with his plan he stood up straight and looked at you with a confused tilt of his helmet. “What?” you challenged.

“Nothing..” 

He checked his vibroblade at the top of his boot on his right hand side, then his bracers, and finally pulled his blaster. With a shake of his head, he turned and walked carefully into the mouth of the cave, swallowed up by the blackness until he disappeared all together. You looked back at the kid who was sitting forward in his pram and looking between the cave and you with what you swore was concern. 

“He’ll be fine,” you reassured him, not knowing if the wide-eyed creature could even understand you. The baby cooed in response and you felt a little better. You watched the entrance carefully, widening your stance and biting your lip. You strained your ears for any sign of movement, and noise that confirmed that Din was still in there. “Come on. Come on.” You mumbled to yourself as you stood in silence and willed him to come back out. 

The shadows erupted in quick bursts of light and high pitched screeches as blaster fire pierced through the cave a handful of times. You took a few steps forward as your pulse began to race and you cursed under your breath. You should have never let him go in alone. 

“Din!” you yelled, but there was no response. Before you could go in after him, the Mandalorian flew out of the mouth of the cave as if he had been thrown by a great force and landed flat on his back in the mud. You ran for him then, crouching down and putting a hand on his arm. “Din?”

“Run,” he said, trying to get his breath back from the impact. His beskar plate was dented and pulled away from his body as whatever had thrown him from the cave had hit him dead center with an incredible force. 

“What’s in there??” you tried but were cut off.

A loud roar shook the ground and you looked up to a massive, hairy, muddy creature emerging slowly. A giant horn stood up from the end of its snout and it huffed hot air, looking at you with large, amber eyes. 

“I said, ‘run’!” Din yelled as he sat up and grabbed his Amban rifle. He pointed it at the creature and it clicked as the mud that now covered the weapon, and its owner, jammed it. The rhino-like animal charged you both and Din shoved you forcefully out of its path and into the mud as it hit him again and tossed his body like a rag doll. His rifle skittered yards away, uselessly out of reach. 

You fell back on your butt and looked up in horror as the animal turned its attention back to you and the child behind you. 

“Hey! Over here!” you screamed at it and stood quickly to slap your staff in the mud. It didn’t pay you any attention as it charged the child and Din quickly pressed a few buttons on his bracer, sending the pram whirling off to the side and letting the monster slam nose-first into the muddy hill. 

“Get the kid and get out!” Din yelled at you but as the animal turned and dug at the ground with one of its hooves, you didn’t listen. 

It charged him then. It used its gargantuan horn to slam the Mandalorian down into the mud, pressing him further into the earth. _Slam! Slam! Slam!_ He groaned and you saw red. Taking off in a sprint, you slammed your staff against the animal’s skull and contemplated how you were going to get on its back now that you were slick with mud from head to toe.

“Duck!” Din told you and you hit the ground as he punched his arm forward causing his bracer to erupt in a cloud of flames. The heat barely did any damage but it was enough to get the beast off of him and to back up in fear. 

With another punch of his arm, he shot the wire grappling hook out and it embedded in the face and fur of the animal. It roared in pain and yanked its head back, dragging Din face first into the mud before it took off at a gallop, taking the Mandalorian with him. He braced his feet and held on tightly as the creature drug him across the ground like a sled until it jerked its head and sent him flying once again, rolling over and over to absorb the blow. 

“Din!”

He slowly got to his knees and you reached back and grabbed the blaster that he had shoved in the small of your back earlier. The animal charged you and knocked you back hard, using its entire body as a battering ram on you both. It repeated the finishing blow as Din tried to crawl to you and he landed beside you in the mud, flat on his back again. 

“Go...now,” he grit out in pain as he lay still and tried to regain feeling back in his limbs. 

“I’m not leaving you,” you coughed, slowly rolling to your side and looking for the blaster. Even if you had wanted to listen to him, you couldn’t stand. Your entire body hurt with the blow and you had only been tossed once compared to the handful of times the creature had wrecked Din. 

“ _Dank Farrik,_ ” he groaned as you deliberately disobeyed him and the mudhorn began to charge again. “I’m not dying flat on my back!” he snarled as he slowly got to his knees. 

His beskar hung off of him, sparking in places and dented almost beyond recognition. It was no use to him. With a defeated sigh, he pulled his vibroblade and placed his body between the creature and where you still lay prone. He bowed his helmet as the thunder of hooves got closer and closer and he accepted the incoming attack. 

You closed your eyes tightly and tensed your entire body and then...nothing.

You slowly opened them and Din raised his head to see the massive animal floating in midair. Its giant legs kicked as if it was swimming a few feet off of the ground and it thrashed its head side to side, unable to battle whatever was holding it hostage. The two of you looked over to see the child standing at the front of the pram, big eyes closed in concentration and a tiny, clawed hand outstretched towards the animal. 

“Din?” you asked, breathing heavily and looking back to him for answers, but he seemed as confused as you were. He gripped his blade and stood slowly to marvel at what was happening before you.

The child’s small arm began to quiver from exertion and when he collapsed back into his carrier, the beast hit the ground with a loud thud. Its legs were splayed in all directions and with hesitation Din took the opportunity to shove the knife into its temple and through its skull. 

The mudhorn roared in pain and Din threw his body on top of yours, sliding through the mud and out of the path as the creature collapsed. The two of you breathed heavily in unison as he laid on top of you and you both realized that you were safe. You gripped his arm, the mud and dirt squishing between your fingers and settling under your nails. You were hurt, filthy, but at least you were alive.

“You okay?” he coughed and you nodded. 

“I’ve been worse.”

“Me too,” he groaned as he rolled off of you and helped pull you to your feet slowly and carefully. He held onto for longer than was necessary, as if to prove to himself that you were really okay. 

You both turned and looked at the child lying unconscious among his tattered blankets. “What in the Maker’s name did he just do?”

“I don’t know,” Din said as he approached the pram and bent down to pick up his rifle along the way. “But I think we just saw why...why everyone wants him.”


	9. A Rational Place to Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After almost dying together in the mud, you realize that the Mandalorian might be waiting for you to make a move, that after weeks of digging your heels in the ground and being adamantly opposed to him...you might not be the only one in need of some convincing.
> 
> ...I’m so lucky none of you have my home address.

Mudhorn. What an appropriate name for such a creature. Perhaps a little too on the nose, but appropriate nonetheless. You had sat with the child while Din slid down into the muddy cave and dug the giant egg out of the slough of a nest. Much like the animal itself, the egg was covered in mud and fur. It was big enough that it barely fit under the Mandalorian’s arm and didn’t look like any egg you had ever seen. You also couldn’t fathom why the Jawas would possibly want it. 

“Mando!” Kuiil called happily, reaching up as high as he could and waving his small arms in the air. 

Din adjusted the grotesque egg under his arm as the Jawas scurried back down the ramp, having almost abandoned the idea that you were returning with their demand. 

“We have it,” Din breathed heavily. “We have the egg.”

As he carried it back to their fortress, they cheered in jubilation, hoisting it in the air and marching around in a circular parade. It wasn’t until they cut the top off and their tiny hands dove for the golden yolk, did their intentions become clear. 

“They’re...eating it,” you observed and put a hand to your mouth to keep from dry heaving.

“I told you--there’s no sense to their bartering system.”

They gobbled it up with slurps and smacks, allowing the viscous liquid to run down their chins and robes, making you grimace as you watched them devour their prize. If a snack was the price of all the internal workings of a ship to them, then you couldn’t complain.

“I'm surprised you waited,” Din said, looking down at Kuiil. 

The other man hooked his thumbs in his belt and gave a nod. “I'm surprised you took so long.” He looked you both up and down, slowly taking in your dirty and damaged state of affairs. “Let’s get your parts back--I have spoken.”

“Almost your entire ship--for that?” you leaned in, asking Din and gesturing to the creatures. 

“Seems like a fair trade to me.” He clicked a button on his bracer and the orb floated slowly behind you both as you walked with one of the Jawas towards the pile of scrap to start sifting through what was once again yours. The Jawas were helpful to point out which metal chunks belonged to Din, as if they didn’t want to run the risk of him taking too much. It all looked the same to you--junk.

It took the better part of the afternoon to load up all of the compartments of the Razor Crest. Pieces of metal were piled high on top of Kuiil’s cart and securely fastened with a few ropes to safely make the journey back to the farm. By the time Din helped pull you up into the seat with him, you were exhausted. Every muscle ached. Every inch of your body hurt from the exertion of having your ass kicked that severely. But nothing you felt compared to what the child must have been feeling. 

The whole way back it laid in the orb carefully nestled among the blankets and completely unconscious. It wasn’t just asleep, no, this was the kind of rest that was forced, this was nothing more than pure exhaustion. Din looked over and put his hand on the edge of the pram and pulled it closer to the two of you. 

“Is it still sleeping?” Kuiil asked, looking back from atop his blurrg.

“Yes,” Din nodded.

“Was it injured?”

“I don't think so. Not physically.”

“Explain it to me again. I still don't understand what happened.” Kuiil adjusted the reins in his hands and glanced back at the path before looking back to the Mandalorian. 

“Neither do I,” Din answered honestly.

“Whatever he did,” you started. “Whatever _that_ was--it took everything he had.”

“We wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for him.” 

“You’re right,” you said softly. 

Without thinking, you slipped your muddy hand into Din’s and scooted close enough your legs touched from knee to hip. You felt him stiffen and you waited for him to tell you to move back, but he didn’t say a word. 

\--

Even though it took you into the late evening, the ride back felt much shorter when it wasn’t in the pouring rain. The sun had long set. The pinks and oranges of the sky were fading into a deep indigo as the stars came out and the world around you fell into a gentle slumber. 

Sitting for that long in the cart, however, made your body ache even more than it had earlier in the day. As the acid settled in your muscles, they grew tight and stiff, mirroring the mud that caked your skin and clothing. You didn’t want to know what kinds of bruises or new scars lay under the leather of what little armor you had. 

Like every time since you arrived, Din was there to help you off the cart with a gloved hand in yours and the other on your waist. You should tell him to stop, tell him that his gentle touches and assumptions of you wanting his help in anything were too bold--but they weren’t. The more he touched you, even in passing, the easier the next one became. 

It was as if you had known him longer than a few short weeks. It was as if you had known him forever. Your mother used to say that before you were even born, an Omega and her Alpha held an essence made from an exploded star. The same stardust made up your bones and it made it easy to always find one another. The star pieces naturally wanted to drift back together, to be whole again. You watched him walk towards Kuiil and wondered if such a foolish notion were actually true. 

"There is no way we're gonna get this to work without a full maintenance facility. This is gonna take days to fix." His tone was it's usual calm composure but his body language was loud with his frustration. 

Kuiil slid down from the saddle of his blurrg with a groan and a big stretch of his back. "If you care to help it might go faster. There is much work to do."

"What can I do?" You asked as you stepped up behind the Mandalorian and he turned to you. 

"You both need to get cleaned up first. And eat something. You're no use to me like this." Kuiil continued to speak as he made his way over to his work bench. 

"We don't have time for that," Din tried but the smaller man shook his head and looked through a large crate of tools. 

If Kuiil didn’t argue then you certainly would have. However long it took to fix the ship would certainly be much harder covered in what was left of the Mudhorn nest. At the mention of food, your stomach growled and you put your hand over it to silence the rumbles. Your host looked at you with acknowledgement that he had heard the noise and his press for a recovery period was justified. 

"I have spoken." Kuiil put his hand on the pram that held the sleeping child and looked up at you both. “The child can stay with me. I will go get some food together.The refresher is around the back.”

Din moved like he wanted to protest again and you took a step forward and cut him off. “Thank you, Kuiil.” 

With a soft beep, Din pressed a button on his bracer and the child’s carrier floated behind the Ugnaught and into the house leaving the two of you alone outside. You opened your mouth to say something and slowly closed it as the Mandalorian walked towards the back of the house in a quiet huff. Something was wrong. You knew he was frustrated by the ship, but this irrational need to leave was unlike him. At least, unlike the ‘him’ that you had seen so far. You quietly followed, keeping pace as night started to settle around you both, if you didn’t hurry you would be fumbling in the dark. 

“I guess this is it,” Din said flatly as you approached an add-on to the back of the house. It was almost another room, built as an afterthought and, like most of Kuiil’s homestead, it was built with practicality in mind not necessarily comfort. 

“It’s pretty exposed,” you said, noting the pipes that lead from one of the moisture turbines and through the wall, eventually connecting to two knobs and a sprayer that hung about a foot above your head. 

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he continued, testing the knobs to make sure they worked. “Plus, it’s dark.”

“Still--”

“Look,” Din snapped, turning so abruptly that you flinched back. “I don’t like it anymore than you do. But the sooner we get cleaned up and working on the ship, the sooner we can get the hell out of here.”

You swallowed hard as he turned back around and twisted another knob. The pipes groaned and started doing something at least, but no water came out. You waited for the sound to dissipate before you cleared your throat. “I’m sorry about the ship. But we’ll get it fixed.”

“Mhmm.”

“We got the parts back. And the bounty--which is more than the other hunters got,” you offered, careful to keep your tone calm and even with a hint of optimism. You didn’t like this sudden switch, this reversal of roles so to speak. Perhaps you had grown too accustomed to him always being the one to reassure you. 

“Not we.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not _we_ ,” he repeated. “ _I_ got our parts back. _I_ got the bounty. Not we. Not us. Me.” He tapped his gloved fingers against the broken armor of his chest and you felt a little taken aback. 

“Oh, so I wasn’t right beside you getting my ass handed to me by a Mudhorn?” you asked, crossing your arms under your breasts and feeling the sour beginnings of anger bubbling in your gut. 

“Exactly--you did nothing but put yourself in danger. You didn’t help.” He pointed at you and you smacked his hand out of the air in defiance. 

“I didn’t help? I threw myself on that thing earlier! It was going to kill you!” You felt like a woman gone mad. The two of you had gotten your hands dirty today, literally, and you thought it had gone okay--that you had worked well together. Apparently he felt otherwise. 

“You did. And when I told you to run, what did you do?” He turned his head slightly in question. 

“That’s not fair--”

“When I told you to leave-- what. did. you. do?”

“I--”

“You didn’t listen! That’s what. You continued in vain to try and fight that thing. You were worried about it killing me? Well, how do you think I felt? I thought it was going to kill you too!” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think--”

“About my side of things? No, why should you?” The bitterness in his tone should have made you feel ashamed but it only made you angrier.

Was that where all of this sudden anger was coming from? He was worried about you? No, you didn’t believe that. That couldn’t be it. He continued to raise his voice and you were almost certain that Kuiil could hear you both through the walls of the house. You tried not to think about what your host must possibly think listening to two adults bicker like children. 

“So, this is about my inability to follow orders? Or your inability to boss me around? Control me?” You stared up at him, barely able to see the outline of your heated reflection in the dark of his visor. 

“I never said that.” 

“What happened to _‘partner’_ not prisoner? Or would you rather I just get out of your hair and disappear all together?” You pushed him and his fists clenched at his sides. 

“That’s not what I want.” He lowered his tone almost shamefully. 

“Then what do you want? Hmm?” You held onto your anger, even if he was backing down from his, yours felt good and you clung to it. 

“I work alone. That’s what I want.” He put his hands on his hips and shifted his weight onto one leg, widening his stance defensively. “That’s how it’s always been and the sooner I get back to that, the better.”

He did want to get rid of you. At the root of it all you knew that your indecisiveness had taken its toll on him, but the nagging pain of the past told you one thing...it was happening again. Another man, another time, another Mandalorian...who didn’t want you. That was fine. If that’s what he wanted then he could drop you off on the nearest planet. He could leave you and the bounty back on Nevaro, or he could just leave you here with Kuiil. You didn’t care. Apparently both of your lives were better back when you were alone. 

You nodded, biting your lip and letting out a breath. “Fine.”

When you turned and started to walk away he exhaled heavily as grabbed your arm. “Wait. Shit--”

You yanked your arm out of his grasp and turned back towards him. “I said, fine! What is your problem, now??” you asked in an elevated tone. You wanted so badly to scream at him but you knew that would only make it worse, but, damn, it was tempting.

“My problem?” he leaned back and tilted his helmet with a sigh. “You want to know my problem?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” you challenged. 

“My problem is I have the most stubborn woman I have ever met attached to my hip,” He gestured both hands to his side as if there were a tangible tether between the two of you.

“You asked me to come along today--”

“Only because I knew you would cause more trouble if I left you behind,” he argued. 

“I’m doing my best! I’m out of my element here--the universe threw me out in the deep end and told me to swim--”

“The universe--it’s always the universe’s fault.”

“Well, whose fault is it, then?” you threw your hands up in the air and looked at him with wide eyes.

“We all make our choices. We all make decisions. You say you’re out of your element. You say you are out in the deep end alone--well, every time I try to change that you fight me.” He took a step towards you and you held your ground. “You don’t want to be here. Then fine. But this one foot in and one foot out is driving me insane.”

“You just said you wanted to go back to being alone.”

“I have to start making peace with the fact that that’s what will happen. I have to tell myself that’s what I want--speak the words into existence. Because the longer I play into the idea of us,” he gestured between the two of you. “The harder it’s going to be.”

“The harder it’s going to be to what?”

“To let you go.”

There it was. Your stomach plummeted to the ground as he regained his naturally calm voice and made his admission. He was putting distance between the two of you. He was carefully severing the ties one at a time so that when it finally happened, it wouldn’t all happen at once. You hadn’t given much thought to the future because to you there was no future. Your life and everything in it was very much still focused on one day at a time. Apparently, for the Mandalorian, this was not the case. 

“Being around you, knowing it’s going to end,” he let out a shaky breath and moved his hand to your elbow. “Is torture.” 

“So, you don’t really want me to leave?” You asked carefully.

“It’s not that--”

“A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’, Din.”

“No.”

“You asked me last night about my Omega.” When he nodded, you swallowed the lump in your throat and took another step closer to him. “You--uh, when you were gone for three days, it felt like the world was ending.”

“That good, huh?” he chuckled and you gave a small smile, thankful that his tone of voice was fading back to normal. 

“Everything made me sick. And I finally went outside and just screamed,” you admitted softly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It felt like that for you too, didn’t it?” you asked and he nodded. “Why do we keep torturing ourselves?”

“Do you see another option?” he gave a shrug and dropped his hand from your arm. 

“Yeah...maybe,” you whispered.

You looked up at him, barely making out his silhouette as night had fallen completely while you argued. With shaky fingers, you moved to touch his helmet and he caught your wrist.

“Don’t,” he said firmly.

“I can hardly see anything, it’s dark.”

“Helmet comes off last,” he instructed and you agreed. 

He had told you that no one could see his face except his Omega and you owed him the honesty of not being ready to say those words yet. You looked down at his dented armor and didn’t know where to behind. The intricately strong clasps were under his cloak and around his back and you felt foolish trying to fumble your way through them, especially in the dark. Instead, you took his hand and brought it closer to you, taking off his gloves one at a time. A small victory in picking something easy. 

“Your turn,” you said quietly, as if any noise would ruin the moment or scare him away. 

“We don’t have to do this--”

“We need to get cleaned up and fix the ship. I have mud in places you would not believe. This isn’t commitment--but it seems like a rational place to start,” you shrugged, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible. 

“Rational?” he huffed. “You?”

“Watch it, soldier,” you warned, but you could tell his aura was more joking than before.

“One thing at a time?” he offered.

“Yes,” you nodded. “One thing at a time.”

He let out a heavy breath through the modulator and took your hand, peeling off your gloves in the same way you did his. The moment his bare skin touched yours, the anger faded. The worry was gone. The uncomfortable stasis that you had been in for most of the day slowly seeped into the atmosphere, never to be heard from again. Logically, it shouldn’t have surprised you like it did, the two of you had been holding hands in your sleep the last two nights, but hardly anything between the two of you seemed logical.

“You’re going to have to help me out here. I don’t know where to start,” you touched his armor-plated chest and the chuckle he gave you in return made your heart clench. 

“How about you get undressed and get in the refresher? I’ll take care of this,” he nodded his helmet back behind you. “You have way more mud on you than I do.”

“True,” you laughed. “But I have no idea who to work that thing.”

“There’s a water saver valve on the top. Just reach up and you’ll feel a chain, pull it.”

“Easy enough,” you nodded. 

When you moved around him this time, he held his hand out slightly and let his fingers drag across your bare arm. It was purposeful and should have been innocent, but you knew better. You had given the proverbial green-light and until you stopped him, he was going to indulge. 

The leather armor around your dominant shoulder and torso untied and pulled away from your body easier than you thought it would. Some pieces of your clothing stuck to your skin and once it was off you felt like you could breathe easier. You didn’t entirely like the idea of being naked in the middle of the desert but Mando was right, there was no one around for incredible distances.

You stepped into the refresher and pulled the divider slightly, giving yourself a false sense of privacy, before reaching up and fumbling for the chain that he had said was directly above you. Your triumphant noise when you found it turned to a shriek when you pulled and the tepid water spilled over your head and down your body. 

“What?? Are you okay??” Din threw back the divider in what you could only assume was an equally naked state and everything that had happened in the last few days came out of you in a loud, long string of laughter. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said through your laughter and he joined you with a signature, quiet chuckle. He hesitated at the doorway and you reached forward in the dark and realized he was still out of reach. “What is it?”

“You can’t see, right?” 

“Din,” you said, letting your laughter fade and getting serious once again. “I promise. I can hardly see anything. We’re going to look ridiculous trying to get dressed.”

“Turn around,” he said. “Please.”

“Okay,” you breathed. If that made him feel safer, then that's what you would do. “My eyes are closed too.” 

A quiet hiss preceded a soft thud and you shivered as you realized that was the distinct sound of his helmet coming off. You felt the air move in front of your face as he stepped behind you, his presence was a heavy weight at your back and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” he rumbled right by your ear and you gasped softly.

“Two?” you asked and he made another deep sound. 

“Wrong.”

“Damn, was I close?” you teased and you felt him move his hand back down. 

“Afraid not,” he grinned and you felt him exhale against the back of your neck and you clenched your thighs together. _“Cyar'ika?”_ he asked and you felt ashamed at the meak noise that came from your mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Can I touch you?” 

His voice was so calm, so polite, as if he wasn’t standing inches from you completely naked. How was he so controlled all of the time? How was his tone so unperturbed when you felt like your very existence was hanging on by a thread? Maybe it was because he had to be. Maybe it was because while he suffered in silence, his lifestyle remained dangerous. He had closed himself off from everything his entire life and then you happened. The joy he must have felt at finally being able to open up to someone and you had snubbed him. The guilt from that alone made you feel sick to your stomach. 

You inhaled deeply through your nose and nodded-- _one thing at a time._

“Yes.”


	10. Secretly Charming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asking permission? Gentleness? Din is unlike any Mandalorian you have ever met. Maybe that's why it's so easy to say yes to him.
> 
> I've been keeping you guys waiting all week so, without further ado...(SORRY ITS A DAY LATE)

_“Cyar'ika?”_

“Yeah?”

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes.”

The simple word fell from your mouth with ease despite the fact that it was so much more than a simple word. Both of you were as naked as the day you were born and he still softly asked for your permission. He continued to shock you with his careful gestures and peace offerings--a dignified man wrapped in a warrior. Although it was not expected, it was not unwelcome. 

He stood behind you, closer than he had dared to be since you met, and yet you had never felt safer. If someone would have told you just a few short weeks ago that you would have been this close to a Mandalorian, you would have laughed in their face. And yet, when his hand touched the curve of your waist, you shivered. 

“I’m sorry,” he started. “My hands are probably rough--”

“No,” you said too loudly for such an intimate space before swallowing hard and adjusting your voice. “No, they’re fine.” 

You reached back slightly, groping in the dark until your fingers found his. Placing his hand back on your skin, you moved it slowly down the swell of your hip and bit your lip as you felt his slight hesitation before touching your ass. He was holding back, shielding himself so hard from you that if he hadn't been actively touching you, you would have questioned if he was even really there. 

"Give me the other one," you instructed and held your opposite hand out behind you and he slipped it in yours gently. 

He let you take the lead, guiding his left hand around your body and over your breast. The second his palm made contact and you molded his fingers to your soft skin, he groaned and slouched forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder. How long had it been since he had touched someone like this? Had he ever? Those were both intimate questions for another place and time. 

"You okay back there?" You asked with a smile in your tone as you looked over her shoulder. He nodded without lifting his head from your back and you laughed softly. 

"I'm sorry, it's just--" he started to offer an apology and sighed. "It's just been a l--"

"Hey," you quieted him slowly. "You don't owe me an explanation. We can do that next time." The words left your mouth before you could stop them and you felt him stiffen behind you.

"Next time?" He grinned.

"Shut up."

His hand squeezed your breast and you sighed, leaning back against the front of his body and letting the warmth of him improve the tepidness of the water. Your aching muscles would have liked it to be much hotter, but the feeling of slowly getting clean was sufficient enough for the time being. 

“Is there soap?” you asked, letting go of him to reach forward and run your hands along the wall in the dark. 

“Uhh--” he let go of you as well, turning to move in the opposite direction. 

Your hand felt a small shelf and a bar of something--that had to be it. With a loud thud, it slipped through your fingers and onto the floor, bouncing somewhere by your feet. “Great--now I’ve done it.”

“I got it.”

You both leaned down in unison and when his forehead hit yours, you grabbed the wall. He jerked back and grabbed your arm as quickly as he could, not wanting you to fall. The string of curses he let out was nearly unintelligible and you leaned back against the wall and laughed. 

“Fuck--stay there.” He grumbled as he put a hand on your stomach and bent over to fumble on the floor until he found the bar again. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine--” you continued to laugh and you could sense his confusion without the need to see it. 

“Why are you laughing?”

“Why are you _not?_ ”

He was quiet for a moment and waited until you had managed to work through your giggles before he pulled you back away from the wall and against his body. “Come here.”

You knew he could feel the mud on your skin and starting with the top, he began to rub the wet bar across your arms. Up, up, up from your hands and wrists, to your shoulder and across your back before moving to the other one. It was an innocent place to start, as if he was still waiting with baited breath for you to come to your senses and tell him to stop. To not touch you and get the hell out. You tried to reach through your bond, not knowing how any of this worked, and reassure him that no such thing was going to happen. 

“Is this how you normally relax after getting your ass kicked?” you asked.

“I don’t make a habit of getting my ass kicked,” he mumbled and you rolled your eyes. 

“I don’t believe that.” You leaned forward a bit so he could get your back, slowly chipping away at the dried grime that covered you. “Even if you win the fight, it doesn’t mean the journey didn’t hurt.”

“Usually afterwards I--” he hesitated as his fingers ran over your scapula. You knew what he felt--your scar. He glossed over it and moved to the other side. “Well, I don’t have such good company.”

“A minute ago you told me I was the most stubborn woman in the universe--now I’m good company?” you asked, raising your eyebrow.

“You can be both--oof!” he grunted as you elbowed him in the ribs and he grabbed your arm to keep you from doing it again.

You smirked with satisfaction as he put his arm around you and pulled you back against his chest. The action allowed him to rub the soap up under your breasts and along your belly, careful not to miss any crease or curve. The action was incredibly intimate and you bit your lip and tried to quiet your mind. Naked and alone in the dark with the Mandalorian was not the time to over-analyze anything. 

His left hand held the bar, working it over your side, while his right traveled back up to your breast. You could tell without asking that he was already infatuated with them. How it must have tortured him watching you walk around in your original armor. When you came from a planet of all women, you had never thought of your breasts as anything extraordinary but the fact that he did--well, that made you want to tell him to never stop. 

When his fingers pinched your nipple gently, just a test of sorts that resulted in you making a soft sound, he put his face back against the bend of your neck and groaned. 

“Sorry--”

“No, go ahead.”

With spoken permission, he rolled the ribbed bud between his fingers and you made another sound, pushing back against him fully. His erection finally made contact with the cheek of your ass and you froze. He mirrored you and before he could apologize yet again, something you had decided you wouldn’t continue to allow, you reached back and wrapped your hand around him. Fuck. You didn’t know what you expected, nor had you spent much time imagining what was under the armor, but you certainly didn’t expect him to be so...thick.

“Goddess…” you breathed and he stayed very still behind you. 

“Is,” he grunted, clearing his throat as he tried to speak clearly with your hand around his dick. “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah, fuck, Din,” you whispered as you slowly moved your hand up his length and explored the full extent of him. “You’re--”

“What?” he asked, voice hoarse with worry.

“Big.”

He exhaled hard against your shoulder and let out a nervous laugh that had built up in his chest as he waited on you to give voice to your every thought. “Uh--,” he moved his hand along the wall until he found the ledge again and could put down the soap. “Um--thanks.”

“I’m sorry,” now it was your turn to apologize. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Your face was hot and you were very glad that he couldn’t see you.

“If I don’t get to apologize, neither do you,” he said, gently moving your hand off of his shaft so he could press himself completely against your ass once again. “We’re both fumbling through all of this--literally.” He used both hands, once his arms were around you, to reach up and cup two big handfuls of each of your tits and when he squeezed, you leaned back against him and sighed. 

“One thing at a time?” you said, the simple phrase quickly becoming a mantra of comfort for you.

“If that’s what you want.” he nodded and turned his face to mumble against the shell of your ear. “Then, one thing at a time.”

His lips found your neck as if they were always meant to be there. He kissed slowly as if every move was both a hesitation and a relief. He had once told you that he had waited for you, dreamt of you, and after not just the agony of waiting but the pain of thinking you would never allow him this--well, you were certain he was just as overwhelmed as you were. 

The frustration you had sensed in him earlier was for the most part tamed. The bounty could wait. Nevarro could wait. The whole galaxy could wait if it meant that he got to touch you, that you would allow him to kiss your perfect skin. He kept his hands on your breasts and, not knowing what to do with yours, you reached back and slid them into his hair. He groaned and you smiled again--he liked that. 

His hair was soft and short, a neat and tidy mop that he undoubtedly trimmed himself to keep out of his eyes and make the helmet easier. The way he sagged against you as you ran your fingers through his locks made you wonder if anyone had ever cut it for him. Would he let you? You wanted to. You wanted to help him. To make something in his life easier even if it was something as simple as this. 

Letting go of your breast, Din moved his hand down your stomach and hesitated at the apex of your thighs. He tapped them gently and nosed your cheek, his breath hot against your face. “Spread your legs,” he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “Please.”

How could you say ‘no’ when that was the way he asked? Not that you wanted to say ‘no’ anyway. Your heart hammered so fast against your rib cage that you almost asked if he could hear it. Remembering to breathe, you slid your feet apart more and widened your stance so he could fit this hand between your thighs. 

His hands were big. Goddess, they were so big. You often forgot or simply didn’t notice since he wore gloves all the time, but you were beginning to realize that there was nothing small about the bounty hunter. His hand cupped your mound with ease, feeling the heat of you against his skin and rubbing gently.

“Din,” you turned your head and whispered his name as the action made you brush your nose against his. 

“If you want me to stop, tell me, promise?”

“I promise,” you breathed. A deep inhale and his lips would finally be against yours, you knew it. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, you could feel the way his voice made his chest rumble against your back and it made your knees weak. “I’ve thought of nothing else since last night.”

“I’d hardly call that a kiss,” you smiled.

“Let me show you I can do better,” he spoke against your lips. 

Din may have been secretly funny, but the idea that he was secretly charming? That was almost too much to handle. His deft fingers parted your tender folds and spread your wetness from your core to your clit. You gasped and the motion was enough to draw his mouth to yours. 

Kissing Din was almost too good, but maybe it was supposed to be that way. Maybe his mouth remembered yours from the dreams he had had. Maybe his tongue knew your taste from the way the universe allowed him to know other pieces of you. Regardless, the mountain of unanswered questions that you had faded to the background of your mind and the only thing that remained, the most important thing, was him. 

This angle didn’t allow him to push his fingers very deeply, but for now it was enough. He flexed his wrist and stroked your opening, tracing a circle around the edge before moving his finger up to the apex of your slit. He pressed gently on your clit and you gasped, reaching down to grab his wrist. 

He stiffened behind you but kept a gentle hold on the rest of your body. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah,” you nodded, turning your head as if you could look at him. It wasn’t that you wished you could see his face, you wished that he could see yours. It was easier to make him believe you if he could see that your eyes were free of trepidation. “It’s just--well, it’s been a long time.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you said quickly and you felt his cheek lift up in a smile as he kept his face against yours. The stubble of his facial hair tickled pleasurably against your soft skin and you raised your shoulder a bit to ward off the goosebumps it gave you.

“Good,” he nosed your jaw and you laid your head back against his shoulder and relaxed again. 

Your thighs trembled as he pressed another feather-light touch against your clit. He paused in his other affections as if he wanted all of his efforts focused on the pleasure his hand was bringing you. It was good. Goddess, it was more than good, and in no time at all he had you gripping his arm and panting for another reason entirely. 

You lifted your leg, moving your toes against the wall to try and find purchase to give his hand more room to move. “Shit!” you hissed when you slipped, but his arm caught you around the waist.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked, slowing his hand.

“I was trying to get you more room,” you whined from the loss of friction and you swore you heard him chuckle. “I need your fingers deeper--”

“Okay, here,” he moved his arms from around you and let them rest on your hips. “Put your hands on the wall and bend over a little bit.”

You nodded out of habit even though he couldn’t see you, but did as he asked. Even in total darkness, in the middle of the desert, the action made you feel exposed. You arched your back and bent your ass out towards Din and both of his hands rubbed down you, gripping handfuls of your cheeks and groaning. His hand moved between your thighs again and his fingers quickly found your cunt, slipping inside like he had been just moments before. 

“Goddess, maker, and fu-UCK!” you squeaked as he found your g-spot. When you stomped your foot and pushed back against him, he chuckled and leaned over your back, drawing a line of kisses down your spine.

“Good?”

“As if you don’t know,” you threw at him over your shoulder as he scissored his fingers back and forth. 

“It’s still nice to hear.”

“Yes, Din. Yes, it’s good--better?” you asked as he molded himself against your hip and nosed at your neck. “Don’t stop,” you whimpered and you loathed how pathetic your voice sounded.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered against your ear as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. 

How you wished you could see him. Wished you could know just what face he was making, or how his eyes shined as he helped you fall apart with just one hand. You reached down and parted your folds and played with your clit in time with his movements, each whine just a little more desperate than the last. Every night that you had done this alone in the last years paled in comparison to how it felt now. Every time you closed your eyes and imagined a beautiful person in our bed with their hands on your body, couldn’t hold a candle to the way he touched you now. The only thing that would have made it better was if you knew what he looked like--if your beautiful person would manifest in a form other than your imagination. 

You clamped your thighs around his wrist as your knees buckled and your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as your orgasm trickled through your lower body and all the way to your toes. He caught you, like always had, with his arm around your middle and muffled words of encouragement against your hair. 

Despite knowing it was a ridiculous notion, you never wanted to let him go. You didn’t want to know how empty you would feel without him inside of you. It felt shameful to admit that with him buried between your legs, you felt almost whole. You knew the minute he replaced his fingers with something else any apprehension you still held for him would vanish. 

“You still with me?” he rasped against your cheek as he kissed your temple. When he felt you nod he continued. “Can I have my hand back?”

“No,” you said and the two of you laughed softly together. 

“Come on,” he encouraged as he coaxed your legs apart just enough to remove his hand. “Kuiil is going to think we drowned.”

“But, you didn’t--” you started to reach back to touch him and he grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t worry about it right now.”

“Din, that’s not fair,” you tried to protest and he chuckled again. 

“There’ll be time for that--promise.” He turned you around in his arms and when your hands went to the sides of his neck, he lost what little resolve he had. Leaning in, he pushed you back against the wall of the refresher and kissed you deeply. 

You wanted to touch him. You wanted to make him feel just as good as he made you feel. But when he kissed you like this it was easy to forget any and all thoughts floating around in your head. With lips, teeth, and tongue he took the air from you body and circulation from your brain rerouted to other, more important areas. 

Despite his protests of waiting, you slid your hand down and cupped him firmly, eliciting a grunt of surprise from him against your lips. It made you grin.

“You’re gonna be trouble--I can tell,” he mumbled, reaching up to turn off the water with one hand and gently grabbing your wrist with the other. 

“You already knew that…”

\--

Getting dressed was almost as hard as getting undressed had been. You and Din fumbled together, trying not to step back into the sand before you were clothed as much as possible. Skipping your armor, you pulled on your light pants and tunic and waited while Din put on each piece of his. 

Watching him dress felt like you were witnessing something too intimate, despite the fact that you had just showered together. He had put his helmet back on the moment you stopped kissing him and you didn’t know how to feel but the fact that seeing his face covered once again hurt your heart deep within your chest. It had taken weeks for him to take it off--what if it took that long again?

Kuiil had handed you metal boxes of previsions, dried meats and fruits and a canteen of water. You were grateful, quickly shoving what you could into your mouth and washing it down before you even managed to vocalize your thanks. The smaller man offered a share to the Mandalorian and the hunter waved him away. Realization hit you like a rock to your gut. He had to be starving, but that damn helmet got in the way of so much.

“I’ll save it for him,” you offered and Kuiil handed you the box with a nod as you tucked it in your rucksack.

The child was still asleep in the pram and quietly floated beside you as the rag tag group of honorary ship mechanics made your way to the skeleton of the Razor Crest. The ship was in such a dire state that you couldn’t help but sympathize with Din’s pessimistic observations. But Kuiil simply lowered his goggles and nodded to the both of you. 

“There is much to be done.”

The area around the ship was lit with tall, bright white lights that allowed the three of you to work in the darkness. Kuiil’s goggles glowed with the light from his welding torch as Din hammered and fit the less damaged pieces into place. He had been reluctant to let you help, but one look of stubborn determination was all it took to make him sigh in defeat. You put on a thick pair of gloves and started sorting the pieces of metal from the mountain atop the cart. Small pieces. Flat pieces. Nuts and bolts. Anything that had wires. You cataloged it all into much more manageable piles for them to sift through. 

Despite the noise, the banging and clanging, the _whoosing_ of Kuiil’s fire, none of it seemed to disturb the child and eventually you started checking in on him less. He was breathing, that much you were certain, but his tiny body was simply worn out. 

You had just started to yawn as the sun began to crest in the distance beyond the dunes. The dark sky slowly lifted as pinks and oranges emerged from beyond the wispy clouds. Din jumped down off of the back ramp of the ship and Kuiil raised his goggles and put them back on top of his head. 

“Well, I think it looks pretty good,” you said, crossing your arms under your breasts and looking at your pilot. 

“It’ll fly at least,” Din nodded and looked over at Kuiil. “At least I hope so.”

“It will,” the Urgnaut nodded. “I have spoken.”

Din took a small pouch from his belt and tossed it into his hand. It jingled with credits as he held it out to the other man. “We can't thank you enough,” he said, clearing his throat. “Please allow me to give you a portion of the reward.”

“I cannot accept.” Kuiil held up his hands and shook his head. “You are my guest, and I am therefore in your service.”

Din lowered his hand and put the pouch back on his belt. “I could use a crew member of your ability. And I can pay handsomely.” You tried to hide the surprise on your face as Din offered to add another person to the ship. The idea of Kuiil coming along was definitely not an unwelcome one. He was an old soul, and in the time you had spent on his homestead it had been easy to grow to like him. 

“I am honored. But I have worked a lifetime to finally be free of servitude,” Kuiil crossed his arms and looked out over the horizon before back to the Mandalorian. 

“I understand,” Din said with a small nod of his helmet. “Then... all I can offer is my thanks.”

“And I offer mine. Thank you for bringing peace to my valley,” he gestured out to the sands and turned as the blurrg quietly groaned off to the side. The beast and his cart were patiently waiting to take their owner back to their home. If only you had the same opportunity.

“Kuiil--wait!” you said before he had walked too far away. You jogged the few meters it took to get to him and hesitated before bending down to give him a hug of gratitude. “Thank you.”

The truth was, since losing your home-world, he was the first person to make you feel like perhaps the universe wasn’t such a lonely and horrible place. That despite being strangers, he had shared his home and hearth with you. Perhaps he hoped that you might one day do the same for someone else--and just maybe that someone was standing behind you. 

Kuiil gave you a gentle squeeze before letting go and turning to walk back to his mount. Din came to stand behind you and watched as your host grabbed the horn of the saddle and climbed slowly up onto its back. He held one arm up in the air and waved slowly much like he had the first time you had met. 

“And good luck with the Child. May it survive and bring you a handsome reward!” he called, picking up the leather reins and turning the giant animal. “I have spoken.” 

Reward? _Oh._

You turned and watched as Din slowly ascended the ramp to the ship and the child floated behind him. It had been easy to forget the entire reason you came here, and you were no longer sure if you were okay with it.


	11. A Prize to Be Won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that you've had a taste, neither you nor the Mandalorian seem to be able to stay away from each other. You open up a bit about the past and realize you both have a lot to learn.
> 
> There is a lot of lore in this when is comes to my version of ABO and Omega’s past. I am trying not to dump too much at once but please tell me if something doesn’t make sense or leaves you with questions so I can jot down what I need to address. Also; it is important to know that reader has been with women. No where does it, or will it, state her orientation, that’s for you to decide. She came from a planet of all women--it’s just a fact.

Hyperspace was both a blessing and a curse. The feeling still made you sick to your stomach but it did allow the Mandalorian to step out of the cockpit and away from the controls. It was funny to you how the last time the two of you had been on this ship, you had argued. And now, well, now you couldn't seem to keep your hands off of each other. 

He shoved you up against the wall and spun you around, making you press your forehead and palms against the cool metal. His hands pulled at your tunic and pants, pulling them down and baring your ass. You pushed back against him like a cat in heat and he rutted against your tender skin until you bat at his hip and bucked him off of you. 

"That hurts, take your pants off or quit it," you protested, biting your lip. 

“Sorry.”

You heard his utility belt drop to the floor with a thud, followed by his cloak. His armor started to follow piece by piece and you slipped your hand between your legs and touched yourself to the knowledge that he was undressing. 

"Stop," he said gruffly, grabbing your wrist. "I want to do that." 

"Then hurry up," you cooed and he grumbled.

You were a tease. You liked seeing him like this. The big, bad Mandalorian was frazzled and flustered every time you dared to show a bit of cleavage, or you trailed your fingers down his arm as you passed by. 

This was a new sensation for you both. This desperate need to have one another was almost animalistic and borderline concerning. He had assured you this was normal, that now that your respective selves had gotten a taste of the other, there was no going back. You should have been mad, furious even, that he didn't divulge that particular bit of information to you before he fingered you in the shower--but you weren't. 

"I need to ask you something," he said against the shell of your ear as he replaced your hand with his own between your legs. He leaned against you, alternating between feet as he tried to clumsily kick his boots off the rest of the way. Of course this would have all been easier if either of you were willing to stop groping at one another for a few minutes.

"Yes?"

"Have you," he cleared his throat. "Have you given any more thought to being...you know?"

"I know what?" Your brows knitted in confusion and you fought the urge to look back at him.

"My Omega."

There it was. The other shoe. It dropped along with your stomach as you put your hand on his wrist to stop his movements. He ignored your soft protest and teased a finger against your clit. He was distracting you, or at least you thought he was. He could sense your hesitation and he was a smart enough man that he already knew the answer. 

"Din…"

"It's okay," he assured you. "I just have to ask."

"I'm sorry. We can stop--” 

You wanted to kick yourself for being so stupid. For not only being stupid, but for being what you could only imagine was the most selfish person he had ever met. You had yet to give him a straight answer on the overwhelming obvious but you were all too keen to reap the rewards. That wasn’t fair. And yet, he hadn’t said anything until now. 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, a grin apparent in his voice that instantly made you feel a little better. “But if that’s the case, then I need you to trust me.”

“What do you mean?” you asked quietly.

“Can I put this on you?” 

Another pauldron clunked to the ground along with his gloves before he held his bare hand out in front of you to show you what he was holding. A soft looking bit of fabric fell from his fingers and you suddenly understood. Oh.

“I figured you’d throw a fit if I kept the helmet on,” he continued, keeping his voice low and intimate. “I have it on good authority that you like kissing me.”

“I do not _throw fits_ ,” you said stubbornly, but before he could argue, you added, “But I do like kissing you.”

He chuckled and moved the fabric forward a little and you took it gently, putting it over your eyes and holding the ends back to him to take. It was soft, clearly not ripped off of something he owned, and the idea that he had found this solely for the purpose of being able to fuck you turned your insides to liquid gold. He was thoughtful in ways you felt you didn’t deserve. As he gently tied the cloth in a knot behind your head, his fingers careful not to snag any of your hair, you chewed your lip in thought. 

“You okay?” he asked, sensing your conflict.

“Yeah, I just--”

You paused as you heard the quiet hiss of his helmet and his voice came through without the added filter of the modulator. His voice was so soothing in its natural state and your shoulders relaxed as you leaned back into him and he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Tell me,” he quietly requested. 

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of this,” you started slowly, trying to find the right words. “Of you.”

“I agreed to this.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you whispered as he turned you around in his arms. You wished more than anything you could see his face, see his expressions and maybe what he was thinking. You could, but that would require an answer you weren’t ready to give. 

His hands found your hips and he gave you a soft squeeze of reassurance. “You’re still contemplating it, right?” When you nodded, he continued. “Then you’re not taking advantage.”

“Din--”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Walk backwards.” His voice was gentle as he turned you away from the wall and you took a few cautious steps in the direction he guided you. “You need more time? I got time. Plenty of it.” Your heels hit the edge of his bunk and he kept his hold on you so you didn’t fall. “And while you’re deciding--why can’t we spend it like this?”

“Naked?” you asked with a smile, feeling better with every word he spoke. 

“More or less.” He chuckled again and moved your hands to the hem of his shirt and when you felt him raise his arms, you eagerly pulled it up off of him. “Okay?” 

“Okay,” you nodded and cupped his face, kissing him hard. You wiggled your hips as he pushed your underwear down and tugged at your own shirt. “Are we both going to fit?” you laughed, remembering the direly small size of his sleeping quarters. 

“You got a better idea?” 

“Not really.”

He turned you again and his hands left your body as he sat on the bed and started to scoot backwards on his ass. You reached out for him and he grabbed your hands and guided you clumsily into the bed and on top of him. Your knees almost touched the walls of his bunk and you extended your arms to get a feel for your surroundings. 

“The kid still asleep?” you asked, putting your hands on his chest.

“Last I checked.” 

You nodded and reached back behind you until your fingers made contact with his thigh. You felt your way up his body and he jerked when you reached his dick. It made you grin as you realized he was already hard and you wrapped your hand around him. 

“I’m blind here,” you furrowed your brows as you tried to get comfortable and raised up a bit. “You’re gonna have to help a girl out.”

“I think you’re doing fine on your own,” he said smugly and you pinched his chest. “Ow--shit, okay. Lean forward.”

You did as he asked and he raised up to meet your lips. You couldn’t get enough of the way he tasted, the way he seemed to encompass you every time he kissed you like this. It was safe. It was comforting. It was...something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

His hand slipped between your bodies as his first two fingers found your heat and stroked you gently, making sure you were ready. Unable to resist, he dipped a finger inside of you and when you squeaked against his mouth, he smiled. Your hands laid flat on the bed on either side of his neck as you leaned forward as much as the space would allow and he replaced his fingers with what you both really wanted. 

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he said, moving the head of his cock through your folds and pressing gently at your entrance. 

“I will, I promise,” you nodded, pulling away from his mouth to gasp as you felt him breach you. 

You knew your senses weren’t exaggerating when you felt how big he was in the shower, and you knew for certain now that he was working his way inside of you. The initial stretch was good, so fucking good that you told him to go slowly not because you couldn’t handle it, but because you wanted to savor the way it felt.

He groaned as you sunk down onto him completely and you would do just about anything to hear him make that sound again.

“Come back down here,” he commanded gruffly and it made you smile.

Dipping your head to capture his lips, you rested on your elbows and put your fingers into his soft hair. In that moment, if he asked to stay inside of you like this forever, you were certain you would let him. 

“You okay there, soldier?” you asked light-heartedly and he grunted against your mouth. 

“Fantastic,” he mumbled. 

You kissed your way away from his lips and along his jaw. Using your nose, you moved his chin up so you could kiss his neck and the way he gripped your body let you know that this was definitely something he enjoyed. 

“You like that?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed and nodded. He thrust lightly as you sucked his pulse point and the string of curses that followed made pride blossom in your chest. “That mouth of yours has been trouble since day one.”

“It keeps you on your toes,” you said, using a gentle touch to turn his head and kiss the other side. “You ready for me to move, or you need a minute?”

“Go ahead,” he nodded and when you sat back up he made a soft sound that you would have almost called a whimper. _“Cyar'ika...”_

“What?” you put your hands back on his chest.

“You’re gorgeous.”

It was two words, a simple admission that instantly brought heat to your face and back your shoulders folded in a bit as you wanted to hide from such unbridled praise. He meant it. He was a man of his word in that he didn’t arbitrarily say things to fill the space or because he thought it was what someone wanted to hear--if the Mandalorian said something, he meant it with every fiber of his being. You couldn’t dwell on that for too long. If you weren’t ready to commit to being his Omega then you certainly weren’t ready to dwell on the idea that he was infatuated with you at the very least. But still…

You started to move your hips and his fingers dug into your ass cheeks, guiding you gently. He filled you so well, a snug fit of your heat around his thick cock and you moved slowly, clenching your walls around him. The pleasurable burn moved from your core all the way up through your stomach as your cunt worked to accommodate him. You wanted to always feel him like this, to have him like this, to know he was coveted inside of you with every movement either of you made. 

Soft moans and quiet gasps fell from your lips as each stroke opened you up and allowed him to glide in and out of you unencumbered by friction. You flexed your hands on his chest and he made a noise under you, a rumble under his rib cage that had your arousal dripping down your thighs. 

“Open,” he said as you felt the pads of his fingers brush your bottom lip. You turned your head to obey and moaned around his digits as he put them in your mouth. Laving them in your spit, you sucked his fingers until he pulled them away with a quiet pop. His intentions became clear when he moved his hand between your bodies and started playing with your clit. 

“Din!” you gasped and his free hand gripped your thigh as he crooked his fingers and stroked you. 

“Feel good?” 

“Fuck--” you whimpered as you continued to grind your hips down on him and the head of his cock found the sensitive spot deep inside of you. “Yes, yes it feels amazing--right there.”

“There?” 

“Yes!”

He kept you steady and moved his hips up off the bed slightly to make himself push against the place you instructed. The steady shove and drag of him inside of you quickly worked you up to a point of mild hysterics. He played your body like an instrument that he had been playing his entire life, like it was a gift he was born with--perhaps a knowledge that he had from the stardust in his bones. Whatever it was, you never wanted him to stop. 

He sat up abruptly and put his hand around the back of your neck, holding you immobile against his chest. His strong fingers gripped you in a way that made you shiver against him as he trapped your arms against your chest with the front of his body. The way he kissed you was possessive, no one would ever kiss you this way, but in his arms you had never felt more free. Free to do anything, go anywhere, see everything--as long as he was standing beside you. The feeling made you whimper into his mouth as a familiar heat started to pool between your legs and you bounced on his lap in desperation. 

“I want you to come for me,” he said, muffled against your lips. “I want to see you come again.”

You nodded wordlessly as he fucked you. This time he would get to see it, really see it, without the dark of the shower to stand in his way. You were desperate to show him, show him what he so rightfully earned. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked and your brain wasn’t fully understanding the question. _“Cyar'ika_ , I’m so close, I need an answer.”

Oh. 

“Inside me,” you blurted out. “Don’t leave me--inside, please.”

The growl that came from his throat was unlike anything you ever heard and he mashed his mouth against yours and kept his hand wrapped around your neck as he followed orders. Lips, tongue, and teeth, pulled at you desperately as he groaned into your mouth and came between your legs in a rush of heat that sent you over the edge right after him. 

You whined against him and moved your arms up barely from where they were still trapped to cup his face with your fingertips. It was messy. It was desperate. It was over far too quickly, but goddess be damned, it was exactly what you needed. He pulled away from your mouth and let out a raspy grunt with each emptying thrust inside of you as you clung to one another like your life depended on it. 

He released the grip he had on your throat and moved his hands around your back, cupping your shoulders to his body as you buried your face in his neck and shook. Your thighs and arms shivered against him as the synapses of your body continued to spark and wane. 

His hand gently covered the scar on your back and he moved enough to whisper in your ear. “I’m here. I’m right here.” 

Despite the blindfold, you closed your eyes and let out a strangled noise of relief and overwhelming emotion. For now, all you could do was nod. 

\--

When you finally pulled yourselves apart, Din handed you his cloak and told you to wait while he checked on the child. He stayed away so you could remove your blindfold and stumble your way to the bathroom to pee and clean yourself up. You called for him before climbing back into the bunk and adjusting the fabric securely over your eyes. He placed his hand over your ankle so you knew he was back and you scooted over so he could join you. 

There was a mild amount of fumbling in the small space but eventually you were comfortably on your hip with one leg draped across his lap, resting your head on his broad chest. His arm came down around your shoulders and his fingertips traced small patterns on your arm. The small bunk smelled strongly of sex and the two of you and as you nosed against him and sighed you realized you didn’t mind at all.

“This is nice.”

You grinned and nuzzled against his jaw. “You’re only saying that because you were just inside me.”

“No, I’m serious,” he chuckled. 

“Uh-huh,” you said with playful disbelief and he lightly pinched your arm. 

“It was good though, right?” he said, and the mild insecurity was almost laughable. A fearless hunter, seasoned warrior, who had already made you orgasm once, was against making sure you enjoyed his touch. That you enjoyed _him._

Not having the heart to tease him, you answered honestly. “It was very good.”

“Had you--,” he cleared his throat and you felt him gesture but couldn’t see what it was. “Ever?”

“A few times,” you said and he gave a sigh of relief at not having to find the words. 

“Men?” he pried and you were surprised he was pushing the subject. 

“No.”

“Oh.”

You laughed softly and patted his cheek. “I grew up on a planet of all women, Din. And although men are necessary for procreation--” you sighed as you laid your head back on his chest. “They’re not always required for pleasure.”

“Ouch,” he laughed and you joined him before giving him another pat. “Point taken.” 

“I stand by what I said,” you continued. “And the word is _‘fucked’_ \--” you squeaked as he leaned down and kissed you to stop your words. 

“It sounded too crass when you looked that pretty doing it,” he mumbled sheepishly and you leaned up on his chest.

“You think I’m pretty?” you cooed and you didn’t see his blush but you would have bet a lot of credits that it was there.

“Of course I do.”

“‘Fucking’ can be pretty.” You leaned up a little more and spoke over his lips. “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say you thought I was pretty while you fucked me,” you whispered and he groaned. 

_“Cyar'ika...”_

“Say it.” You gave him a soft peck and then another, over and over with a quiet pop each time until he put his hand in your hair and tugged you back gently so he could see your face. 

“You looked pretty while I fucked you.” 

He growled the words you asked for and you felt your heart stop for a moment before you melted against his chest and kissed him again. He made it so easy to give in. He was addictive and something told you that he was oblivious to that. He was completely out of touch with the way he affected you. 

You both waited until the other had to come up for air before you put your head back down and got comfortable once again. He was right. This was nice. All of it. The touches and the sex. The kisses and the way he thought you were pretty. It should have been overwhelming, scary even, but at the very least it wasn’t, and at the very most...it felt natural. 

You had so many questions for him. There were things you needed to ask him when it came to your Omega, to your bond. Ever since you had let him touch you back on Arvala, she had been thankfully quiet. Whatever beasts lurked beneath the surface of your aura had seemed to be satisfied and after feeling the opposite when he was away from you, you didn’t want to do anything to change that. For now, her silence was good enough. 

His touch trailed up to your shoulder blade and focused on the puckered skin of your scar. The tension in his body told you that he was thinking incredibly too hard about something and you waited patiently for him to voice it. 

“Does it hurt?” 

There it was. You put your hand over his on his chest and squeezed gently. 

“It twinges every now and then, especially if I over exert my shoulders,” you shrugged. “Thankfully I didn’t damage the muscle--I was stupid.”

“You weren’t--” he cleared his throat and pressed his lips to the top of your head, changing the line of questioning. “What was it? Your constellation, I mean.”

Every Omega had a constellation, a set of stars assigned to their clan, their lineage. As far as you understood, it was similar to a Mandalorian and their signet. It made sense that he would be curious as to what was there before you had mutilated it, but you hesitated. 

“...Ursa Major.” 

His entire body stiffened and you didn’t need to see him to feel his shocked stare looking down at you. You knew this was bound to come up and you were actually kind of surprised that took so long for him to ask. 

“Your mother was an Ursa?” he asked. When you nodded he continued. “She was a matriarch.”

“Yup,” you sighed and gripped his hand again. “Once upon a time.”

“That makes you--”

“Don’t say it--”

“A…”

“ _Din_ , I mean it. Don’t say it--”

“A princess.”

You grit your teeth and let out a huff of breath as he gave voice to a word that you never wanted to hear. It was not a term that your people used on your homeworld--it was a term that the Mandalorians had given to let others of their kind know you were important. Valuable. The rarest of the rare. There was no crown to go with the word, no power or title, it was a pissing contest among alphas that the stars had aligned and chose to give them royalty. The gods and goddesses had gifted them with a special cunt to carry the future children of their clan. You weren’t a princess--you were a prize. 

“That’s incredibly insulting.” You let go of his hand and kept your voice flat. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly but softly as he snatched your hand and put it back on his chest. You let him. 

“I’m no one's property.”

“I know that.” His tone was gentle as if he was worried you were about to run. “I would never insinuate you were.” 

Ursas were leaders. They were special. They bred the best warriors and every Mandalorian that sat on the throne of his homeworld had been birthed by an Ursa. Every single one. Surely Din knew that. You wanted to ask, to know that he understood, but at the same time you had spent your entire life trying to tell yourself that it didn’t matter. The fact that your mother had been what she was didn’t save her in the end. 

“I wasn’t born into this, you know?” Din broke the silence and moved the focus back to himself. “My parents were ordinary people. The Mandalorians took me in when the Empire destroyed my home.”

“You chose this?”

“They were good to me,” he shrugged lightly and relaxed again under you. “It seemed like the right thing to do.” 

“If it’s not in your blood, then how are you an alpha?” you asked in confusion.

“Training, meditation,” he nodded his head with each word as if going through a list. “And of course the occasional pheromone accelerator.” You tried to keep the shock off of your face as you realized that the covert had had a hand in making him the way that he was. “I wasn’t entirely sure what I signed up for when I took the creed.”

“That must piss off some of the other Alphas.”

“They get over it. It’s one of the added perks of working alone.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand and gave you a squeeze. “Until now.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” he said shortly as he placed another kiss on your forehead and kept you close. “This is the way.”

\--

You sat buckled in your seat behind and off to the side slightly behind the Mandalorian as he piloted the ship. Eventually the two of you had untangled from each other and fell back into strides of doing what you had been for the last few weeks before you had had sex. You watched him carefully with a newfound sense of comradery. No, that wasn’t it. Devotion? No, that wasn’t it either. 

Despite not having the words to describe it--you now had permission to touch. You had both had a taste and it opened the doors to so many paths that you had never considered. If you didn’t control yourself, your calming mantra of _‘one thing at a time’_ would soon be a foolish notion of the past. 

The child cooed quietly in the pram beside you and you turned on your hip and smoothed some of its wispy hair down between its gargantuan ears. “Doing okay in there?” 

_“ooh-aH!”_ it said with a squeak, throwing a tiny hand in the air. 

“You don’t say?” you laughed back and it grinned. 

“Can you understand it?” Din asked over his shoulder, once again armor-covered.

“No,” you shook your head with a scoff. “But it’s a kid. You’re supposed to talk to them. It’s soothing--I think.” You shrugged and sat back in your seat. The dashboard in front of you beeped, a quick trill of sound that repeated itself. 

The Mandalorian looked to his right and nodded in front of you. “Hit the green button, and flick the lever over.” 

You did as he asked and a blue light came from the dais on the dashboard. With a flicker, a small hologram of Greef Karga appeared as Din dropped the ship out of hyperspace and came into the limits of the sector. You recognized the man from when Din had introduced you on Nevarro. The fact that he was only about five inches tall this time didn’t minimize your distaste for the guild leader. 

_“Mando!”_ he declared with a wave of his hand. _“I received your transmission. Wonderful news.”_ He hooked his thumbs in his belt and gave a wide smile. _“Upon your return, deliver the quarry directly to the client. I have no idea if he wants to eat it or hang it on his wall but he's very antsy.”_

At his words, you looked from the hologram to the pram where the child was slowly looking over the edge and gingerly climbing out. His tiny feet plopped quietly onto the floor of the ship and you didn’t move to stop him, not wanting to draw Karga’s attention to the little green bounty. 

_“Safe passage. You know where to find me.”_

The hologram flickered off and Din reached over to flip the switch back to its neutral position before putting his hands back in place on the controls. 

“Din?” you asked, once you knew for certain that you were alone again. 

“Hmm?”

“You still don’t know what they want with him?” you asked with uncertainty. “Even Karga doesn’t know?”

“That’s not part of the job,” he said, much more gentle than the first time he had told you that, but the words remained unchanged. 

“I don’t like it,” you shook your head. “Who pays a bounty hunter to go after an infant?”

“You saw what he can do.”

“And? He’s still a child,” you continued to press him. “Do you think they want to train him?”

“No.”

“What then?” 

“Don’t do this,” he huffed a heavy breath and you felt the twinge of a familiar anger tighten in your chest. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” You unbuckled your harness as he broke the atmosphere of the planet. You sat forward on the edge of your seat and stared intently at his helmet as you realized that you couldn’t sense his alpha as strongly as you could earlier. “You’re shielding like a son-of-a-bitch, Din, but I’m not stupid.”

“He’s special,” he said carefully. “I mean it when I say I don’t know what they want with him.”

“Special,” you said softly. “You mean rare?”

“What difference does it make?” he asked and you pressed your lips together in a tight line. 

“Rarity increases the value of the _prize_ ,” you nearly spit the last work and Din looked at you, his shoulders slumping in realization. 

“This is not the same thing,” he said flatly, holding up a gloved finger as if preparing for the argument that he knew was coming. 

“Isn’t it?”

Din turned around in a huff to steer the ship closer to the landing dock. You stayed quiet and watched as the child waddled unsteadily over to one of the control panels. 

He climbed up on one of the platforms and reached his clawed hands for one of the levers. He slowly twisted the shiny ball bearing off of the top of the gear shaft and cooed with excitement as he inspected it closer. A soft clinking sound could be heard as he tried to chew on it with his small front teeth. 

“It's not a toy.” Din twisted in his chair and took the ball away from the child before, screwing it back into place on the lever. He scooped the child up under the arms and put him firmly back in his orb. 

You stood up and pulled the cloak around your shoulders as he touched the Razor Crest down with a gentle thud. He reached up and pulled on the respective levers and hitched the landing gear into place as the ship settled into a docked position. You were furious. Furious at not only him but for yourself for thinking that anything that had happened between you would have changed the plan. He was still a bounty hunter. He was still a Mandalorian. As soon as you thought he had taken a step forward, he took two steps back. You wanted so desperately to be wrong about him that you had let your guard down. Stupid.

He stood up and when he moved around the chair, you didn’t move to get out of his way. Instead you stood directly in front of him until your chest was touching his own and you looked up into his visor. 

“I sure hope they paid you enough,” you said bitterly. 

The cabin doors hissed open as you walked through, not bothering to stop as he called your name.


	12. This is the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After handing over the Child to the Empire, Din uses his reward to replace his battered armor. You force him to question his actions and he realizes that his creed takes precedence over the guild code. 
> 
> This is a long one, and you guys must just be really in tune with me/this story because I had originally planned for this to be from Din’s POV but wasn’t sold on it quite yet and it was requested SO MUCH, I figured that was a sign.

He didn’t have to turn around to know that you were following close behind him. The anger that was radiating from you was palpable. He could taste it. It held the flavor of a bitter wine that had been left to sour. It left a residue on his tongue and made him lick the inside of his teeth in an effort to get it off. He needed to start working with you on how to control your Omega, on how to keep your metaphysics in check enough to make both of your lives easier. That was...if you chose to stay after he handed over the child. **  
**

Even something as simple as entertaining the idea of losing you was too much. He had been alone for so long and feeling something this strongly was overwhelming. It was tearing up his insides, making him sick. He swallowed hard and thought reassuringly to himself, _‘one thing at a time.’_

Speaking of--the green child rested in its pram, tucked among the blankets as it looked from side to side, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. It had no idea what was in store for it, and normally, he didn’t give a damn. This was a job. He got in, got out, got paid--end of story. But you had changed that. You and that stubbornness you clung to that made him second guess himself in unfamiliar ways. 

If you would just let him explain. 

“Are you sure you want me to come with you?” you asked as you fell into step beside him and kept your arms crossed under your breasts.

“Would you rather stay behind?” 

His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, but your emotions were starting to trickle passed his defenses. You had no control when it came to your emotions, your shields, the imaginary walls that stood between your Omega and his Alpha that allowed the two of you to function independently. To function normally. _Fuck._

Goosebumps formed on the back of his neck and he rolled his shoulders to try and shake them off. His Alpha was pissed because you were pissed. And either he shut you off completely, or this was bound to get tricky. 

“No.”

“Then keep up.”

Both of you fell back into a strained silence as you stepped up to be beside the child. The infant squeaked and reached for your hand and you offered it to him. Despite that icy shell, Din knew you had a heart--a big one. But time had made you careful with who you gave it to, and who was even lucky enough to see it. 

He wanted you to come because...well, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t know why he wanted you to come so badly. Maybe it was that he was terrified you would run because you were so upset with him? Or maybe he wanted you to see the kind of people he had to deal with? Whatever the reason, he just felt better having you at his side. That was how it was supposed to be. 

If you did choose to part ways with him he already knew he would beg you not to pick Nevarro. He hated the place. The busy streets were filled with less than honest people doing less than honest work to make a quick credit. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that you could handle yourself, but you deserved more. So much more. You deserved a planet like the one you had lost. You deserved to feel the earth under your bare feet and the sun on your face. He wanted that for you, even if...

He glanced back at you and held his breath. He couldn’t give you up, not when things just started going right. 

The path down the stone steps and into the alleyway was the same as before. This area of the city was deserted, and having already met the client once, he knew they were probably directly responsible for that. The three of you stopped at the door and he knocked a gloved hand against it firmly. 

“That place looks empty,” you stated with a grimace.

“It’s supposed to.”

A metallic eye-stalk looking camera popped out of the concrete at eye level and barked orders in a deep voice. Din understood the language and he held up the fob for the eye to scan his identification. With a satisfied beeping, the machine blinked twice and zoomed back into the wall before the doors clicked and hissed open. 

The same guards greeted him as before, so it wasn’t a surprise when he saw the stormtroopers standing with their guns at the ready, but the gasp that came out of you made him flinch. Shit. He should have given you a warning. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, jumping slightly and taking a step back.

“This way, hunter,” one of them said through the modulator of their recognizable white helmet. “Who’s this?” the trooper nodded to you and Din instantly wanted to snap his neck. Neither of them should even be allowed to look at you.

“She’s with me,” he said flatly.

“She can wait out here.”

“Wherever I go, she goes,” Din clenched his fists as he tried to keep his cool. Your anger had seeped into a frigid fear that he could feel like an icy sweat dripping down his spine. “I’m sure your boss won’t be happy if you make him wait much longer for this.” He jerked his thumb at the pram and the two guards shared a look. 

“Fine,” one said with a nod. “But we’re watching you.”

“Don’t try anything, stupid.” The other trooper added looking directly at you causing Din to step in your line of sight. 

He wanted to dare them to speak to you that way again. He was on edge and itching for a fight. But instead he held his ground, and his tongue, and waited for them to turn around and lead the way into the dark building. 

Din couldn’t help but notice how you and the child almost seemed to mirror one another, looking around with wide-eyed concern as you observed the dark hallways littered with shipping crates and dusty items leaned against walls and corners. The empire was no more and the state of the bunker should have been evidence of that, but the stormtroopers walking a few short paces ahead put an unsettled feeling into the air. 

The trooper in front of Din roughly grabbed the edge of the pram and jerked it closer to him, as if the orb wasn’t following fast enough. The child made a soft sound and Din snarled under the helmet. 

“Easy with that.”

“You take it easy,” the trooper barked in return. 

The door at the end of the tunnel hissed open and all of you walked into an open room. It was much like the hallways in terms of clutter and dust, but at least this room had a bit of light. The client stood upon your arrival, his cold eyes lit up more than Din thought possible when he saw the pram. He had piercing eyes, predatory and cold--everything in his body screamed to pull you closer to him but he refrained. The look in itself was unnerving on such a detestful man. Best not to draw attention to you at all, if he could avoid it. 

“Yes,” the client whispered as he moved his robes to the side so he could step around the table. “Yes, yes, yes. Look at you.”

The older man held out his own tracking fob and the machine beeped rhythmically as it was moved closer to the pram. 

The child blinked up at him with those glassy, innocent eyes and then flicked his gaze to the second man as he approached. Dr. Pershing, if Din was remembering correctly, although carrying a warmer presence than the actual client, was a meek man. He hid behind his imperial lab coat and thick rimmed glasses as he hunched down and ran a scanning device over the green creature. 

“Yes,” he nodded as the handheld device beeped a few times and the child squinted against the light being shined in its eyes. “Very healthy. Yes.”

The client stood back up to his full height and looked at Din with a thin lipped smile that didn’t reach his lifeless eyes. He clasped his hands behind his back and grinned, an unnerving display of too many teeth. 

“Your reputation was not unwarranted.”

“How many fobs did you give out?” Din asked, unable to help it as he tried to keep his voice level despite the tension that was spreading across his shoulders. 

“This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure its delivery.” He turned and went back around the table, bending over to grab something of incredible weight. “But to the winner…” He lifted a metal camtono onto the table and punched a code into the handle before twisting it. A heavy click came before the container hissed open and reviled stacks of beautiful metal bars. Beskar. “...go the spoils.”

Din stepped up and looked over the beskar ingots before using a gloved hand to carefully remove one from the container and trace his finger down its shiny surface. He felt you step up beside him and some of the tension left his shoulders. He wished you both were somewhere private, somewhere he could tell you how much seeing these bricks meant to him. This was the armor of his people...your people--despite the symbol of the empire stamped disrespectfully in the corner. 

The child gave a small cry and both of you looked up as Dr. Pershing walked into a separate room and the orb followed closely behind him. Its tiny green hands gripped the side of the pram and looked back at you with worry and he felt you start to move before you actually did it. 

“Mando…” you whispered and he put his hand out to stop you from stepping forward. 

“Such a large bounty for such a small package,” the client said, steepling his gnarled hands together as he sat back in his chair and looked up at the Mandalorian with an unnerving grin. 

The child disappeared and the metal doors shut firmly behind him. Din tore his gaze away from the doors and back to the client. 

“What are your plans for it?”

The client raised a white eyebrow and frowned. “How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation,” he said flatly. “You have taken both, commission and payment.”

As much as he hated it, the man was right. This was just a job and you were never supposed to get involved when it came to a job. He had been elbow-deep in this complicated profession for many years and that rule had served him right every time. You did what was asked, you got paid, you got out. Plain and simple. 

“Is it not the code of the guild that these events are now forgotten?” the Client continued. “That Beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor.” He nodded to Din’s dented dura-steel plated body. “Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel.”

Every word that dripped from his wrinkled mouth was laced with an underlying threat. The Mandalorians were barely surviving and taking a prize like this back to the covert would be good for the tribe. But it didn’t feel right. None of it did. And he couldn’t tell if that was from his own subconscious or yours. 

With a heavy hand, he gripped the handle of the camtono and twisted until the side panels shut and locked securely. Before he could even turn completely around, the client spoke again. 

“I can double your payment.”

Din froze and slowly turned back, waiting for the man to explain himself. 

“Apparently we both are collectors of rare items,” he turned his gaze from the Mandalorian to you and Din grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Leave the Omega.”

Din swallowed hard and forced himself to regain some semblance of composure as he stared the man down. “I'll pretend you didn't say that." He glanced up as a few more stormtroopers entered the room before looking back to the older man. “We’re done here.”

He turned again and waited for you to follow suit, keeping you in front of him, more than willing to use his body as a buffer between you and the guards that watched you carefully. He stood still until you were through the doorway before he put his hand on the small of your back. What surprised him was the fact that you let him.

\--

Your demeanor had changed considerably since the two of you had stepped off of the crest and it was a time such as this that he wished he could read your thoughts. You had kept your arms close to your body, reserved more so than your usual spitfire self and Din wasn’t sure that he liked such a change. He wanted to know what you were thinking. Could he ask that? Would you even tell him? If anything, you had moved much closer to him than before as the two of you walked through the streets. 

He waited until he had dipped into a familiar alley before he slowed his pace and looked over his shoulder. 

“Whatever you want to say, just say it,” he said flatly, not wanting to appear harsher than he intended.

“They work for the Empire,” you said quietly and he clenched his fists.

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“It doesn’t matter--”

“Of course it does,” you stopped him with a hand on his arm and he glanced down at it before looking at you. At the very least you were still okay with touching him--the thought alone made his body sag slightly in relief. 

“You’re upset,” he said carefully. “I should have warned you.”

“Din, that’s not the point.” You dropped your hand from his arm to pinch the bridge of your nose and give a frustrated snort. _Dank Farrick, that was cute._ “I thought you were well above getting in bed with the Empire.”

“I’m not ‘getting in bed’ with anyone.” _Except you_ , his brain finished automatically. “It’s just a job. A job with a really big pay out.”

“So, it’s just about the money then?” you raised an eyebrow as you asked and he couldn’t decide if you were angry or not. He didn’t like not being able to read you like an open book. He also didn’t like being this conflicted over a bounty. Did you find joy in laying new problems at his feet?

“This isn’t just money,” he raised the camtono and nodded his helmet towards it. “This is beskar. It belongs to my people-- _our_ people.”

“Our people,” you whispered.

“You may not understand yet, but you will.” 

He let out a heavy breath and turned to walk away but stopped short when he realized you hadn’t moved. He turned back to you slowly, dreading whatever look was in your eyes that was about to make his heart sick. 

“They’re going to kill him, aren’t they?” you asked, keeping your voice quiet and hugging your middle.

He wanted to tell you ‘no’, a definitive lie that would make you feel better and maybe him by proxy. But he couldn’t lie to you. He never wanted to lie to you. Nothing good ever grew from lies and whatever was growing between you, whatever you decided, he wanted it to be good. Truth it was then.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But if that were the case then the bounty would have been the same no matter the condition I delivered it in. Since they offered more for it alive--I’m guessing that’s how they preferred it.” 

“Stop calling him an _‘it’_ ,” you snapped. “He’s a child. A very special child...that we just handed over to an enemy.” 

He stayed still as you walked towards him, not sure of your intentions but positive that if he wasn’t wearing a helmet you would have slapped him. He hated seeing you like this, this raw emotion on your face and yet being unable to not only feel what you were feeling, but unable to fix it or make it better. It was a torture he had never known. 

You purposefully ran your arm into his as you walked by him in the small alleyway and he let you go. He deserved that. 

\--

The Mandalorian adjusted his grip on the camtono as he walked down the stone steps of the Covert. The air in the halls was different this time. Helmets turned and followed the two of you as you walked by the other members of the tribe and he rolled his shoulders to get rid of the prickling sensation that had settled at the base of his neck. 

He followed a familiar path that was led by the rhythmic banging of steel on steel. The workshop of the Armorer was fully operational and as he walked through the large doorway, she raised her golden helm and looked up. With a final slam of her hammer, she set her tools off to the side and moved around the open flame of the kiln. 

Din set the metal container on the table in front of him and punched in the code before twisting the handle and revealing the precious items that lay within. Her gloved hands took one of the bars off of the top and caressed them slowly.

“Beskar,” she whispered.

“It’s more than I was expecting,” Din added.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said and Din knew she wasn’t talking to him. He fought the urge to glance back at you but saw you nod out of his peripherals. She looked back up to Din and gave a nod of her own before motioning for all of you to take a seat at her table. “This amount can be shaped in many ways,” she said carefully, inspecting another bar in the stack. 

Din placed his hands on his knees and nodded. “My armor has lost its integrity,” he glanced down at his chest where the durasteel was badly damaged. “I may need to begin again.”

“Indeed,” she said with such a disapproving tone that Din fought the urge to hunch over. “I can form a full cuirass. This would be in order for your station.”

“That would be a great honour.”

“I must warn you, it will draw many eyes.” She placed the ingots back into the stack and glanced to his left where you were seated. “But something tells me you’re used to that.”

He sensed movement in the doorway of the amory and he saw you turn and look up as a handful of other Mandalorians entered the room. He did his best to ignore them as he reached into the pouch of his belt, pulled out a folded piece of paper and slid it across the table to the woman. 

“I need these made as well,” he said, keeping his voice low and willing her to open the paper with care. She abided by his silent request and looked it over carefully before making a small nod of approval.

“I can do that.”

The three of you looked up as one of the larger Mandalorians walked up to the table. His pounding boots shook the floor and his broad shoulders loomed over everything below him as Din clenched his fists. 

Paz Vizsla was a thorn in his side since he joined the covert. He was a brute. He towered over just about anyone he met, Din included, and he spoke as if he believed he was the only one that took his oaths as a warrior seriously. He was a natural born Alpha, bred to destroy and protect, but never to lead--a hated fact that he made everyone around him pay for. Din felt his own beast start to grumble at the very notion that Paz was within reaching distance of you. If the man so much as breathed in your direction, Din would drop him faster than he could blink. 

Paz picked up one of the beskar ingots from the table and looked it over carefully. He traced the stamped imperial signet in the bottom corner and gave a derisive snort. 

“These were cast in an Imperial smelter,” his voice rumbled through the room and you didn’t have to see the snarl to know he was making it. “These are the spoils of the Great Purge. The reason we live hidden like sandrats.” He hissed the last word and tossed the beskar back down on the table.

The armorer replaced the bar gently, putting it back with the rest. Despite his outburst she remained calm and collected as always. “Our secrecy is our survival. Our survival is our strength.”

“Our strength was once in our numbers,” Paz said, crossing his beefy arms over his armored chest. “Now, we live in the shadows and only come above ground one at a time.” He stopped and gestured to the other Mandalorians that stood in the doorway and were watching the interaction intently. “Our world was shattered by the Empire with whom this coward shares tables.”

He pointed at Din and before he could say anything in his defense, you turned your head up to look at the blue-armored man, beating him to the punch. 

“And who are you?” you said with a sneer and Din felt the corners of his lips twitch up in a grin. 

“Play your cards right and I’ll be your alpha, sweetie,” Paz made three crude kissing sounds under his helmet and Din felt his blood boil. “You deserve better than this...princess.” He leaned in and inhaled deeply right by your face making it a point that he could smell you, that he knew exactly what you were and didn’t have the decency to hide that he wanted a taste. 

The bigger man stepped around you and his large, meaty hand went for the bottom of Din’s helmet, gripping the edge with the intent to rip it off. Din shoved you out of the way and grabbed Paz by the wrist, holding on as the other man lifted him up off the ground. They struggled for a second, both of Din’s hands grabbing onto his forearms and grunting before he struck him in the bend of his elbow, breaking his grip. The split second of release allowed him to grab his blade from his boot and he reared forward slashing across the other man’s chest twice. _Shing! Shing!_

“Din!” you yelled as you landed back on your elbows on the ground. 

They ignored you and Din slashed again, the vibroblade sparking against the chestplate of the other warrior. The armorer stood up slowly and observed the two men bickering like children, yet throwing punches like animals. 

They broke apart as Paz gave him a mighty shove and pulled his own blade from his waist and held it at arms length against Din’s neck. The smaller man mirrored him as they reached a physical stalemate and panted heavily, looking at one another through their visors. 

“The Empire is no longer, and the Beskar has returned,” she said calmly, gesturing to the table before her. “When one chooses to walk the way of the Mandalore you are both hunter and prey. How can one be a coward if one chooses this way of life?” She looked from Din to Paz and let her arm fall back down to her side. “Have you ever removed your helmet in front of anyone except your Omega?”

“No,” Din said quietly. He technically hadn’t removed it for you officially, but somehow that felt private. And he would rather die before he let Paz know that you were still debating on being his mate. 

“Has it ever been removed by others?” she asked in the same tone.

“Never.”

“This is the way.” She gave a nod to the two men and moved to sit back down at her table.

“This is the way.” The other Mandalorians all said in unison causing Din and Paz to both slowly lower their blades and put them back into their respective sheaths. 

“This is the way,” Paz conceded and when the Armorer waved him away he turned and left the room in a huff. 

Din waited until the man was fully out of sight before he turned back to you and helped you back to a sitting position instead of laying almost completely prone on your ass. You mumbled your gratitude and took your seat beside him. You sat close enough that your entire thigh touched his and he wanted so badly to put his hand on your knee that his fingers twitched. But he refrained. Maybe someday.

“What caused this damage?” the Armorer interrupted his thoughts and gestured to the dents and scrapes on his chest plate.

“A mudhon,” Din replied.

“Then you have earned the mudhorn as your signet. I shall craft it,” she decided with a nod as she started lining the bricks of beskar side-by-side carefully in the iron tray that sat in front of her. 

Din thought back to the day you both took on the giant creature. How a tiny green hand and a sheer noble force of strength had saved him from the excruciating death of impalement on the beast’s horn. The child was the reason he was sitting in the safety of the Covert. The child was the reason that you were sitting next to him, unscathed. And yet, he had so easily handed him over to the Empire.

“I can't accept,” Din said with a shake of his head and a soft sigh. “It wasn't a noble kill. I was... helped by an enemy.”

“Why would an enemy help you in battle?” The Armorer paused in her task and turned her helmet back up to meet his.

“It…” he bit his lip and swallowed hard. “...did not know it was my enemy.”

She continued to look at him with a questioning tilt of her helmet and she glanced at you briefly before back down to the beskar. “Since you forego a signet I shall use the excess to forge whistling birds.”

“Whistling birds will do well,” Din agreed. “Reserve some for the foundlings.”

“As it should always be,” she approved. “The _foundlings_ are the future. This is the way.”

“This is the way.”

\--

“Foundlings are the future,” you said quietly under your breath as you and Din walked up and out of the Covert, back into the main street.

“Did you say something?” Din asked and you shook your head.

“No.”

He knew you were lying. He also knew what you had said. The irony of the situation was not lost on him as he mulled the words of the Armorer over in his mind and thought back on the events of this morning. 

His new armor fit like a dream. For as long as he could remember the Armorer had been a savant with the forge. The things she could do with a hammer were unbelievable and the Covert didn’t trust anyone else when it came to making the items that would protect all of the tribe’s warriors. The separate items were just as meticulously crafted and she had wrapped them carefully in a soft linen before handing them to Din to place in his rucksack. 

As if the initial shock of everything had worn off, he could feel your anger start to seep back into you and the spaces that you both occupied. He wanted to hold you. He wanted to kiss your neck and inhale your scent. He wanted to kiss the worry lines at the corners of your eyes before holding you down and fucking you until you both forgot the troubles of the day. But he had a feeling you wouldn’t welcome such attention as you had before and that made his heart feel sick.

He waited for you to catch up before opening the door to the cantina and moving his hand to your back to move you carefully inside. Much like they had in the Covert, all of the bounty hunters turned their eyes upon the pair of you as you entered. He had no doubt that besides you, they all had a new reason to gawk and glare--the beskar. 

“You had your shot, dust breather, but you failed,” an angry voice came from a booth in the back. “No pucks for you. Now get outta here.” Greef Karga snarled as he jerked his thumb back towards the door and the hunter he was chastising shook his head and kicked a nearby chair in anger. 

Din walked in front of you, slowly making a path through the other patrons and guild members on his way to approach the leader’s table. The man in question looked up as Din stopped to remove his rifle and allowed you to take a seat on the inside of the booth.

“Ah! Mando!,” the other man said in jovial delight. He raised his hands and gave a hearty laugh and a smile in your direction as well before waving an arm out to the entire bar. “They all hate you, Mando. Because you're a legend!”

Din didn’t bother looking around. He could feel the weight of their stares on his back and it was the least of his concerns at the moment. He rested his gloved hands on the table and looked directly ahead at Greef. “How many of them had tracking fobs?”

Karga scoffed, clenching his fist and pounding it on the table as his smile grew. “All of them. _ALL_ of them! But not one of them closed the deal. Only you, Mando. Only you.” He pointed at the man across from him and shook his finger, jabbing towards the different pieces of the beskar. “And with it, the richest reward this parsec has ever seen. Please, sit my friend.”

“So, you allowed a pissing contest among your team and your star player now has a target on his back?” you asked, crossing your arms under your breasts as Din turned and looked at you in surprise. 

That was the second time you had made him grin today.

“That’s not how the guild works, my dear,” Karga said with a nod in your direction. 

“If you say so,” you continued to return his smile with a hard stare and the other man ignored you in favor of going back to praising the hunter.

“They're all weighing the Beskar in their minds, but not me.” He shook his head. “No. I, for one--I celebrate your success. Because it is my success as well. Hell…” He stopped to reach into his cloak and partially pulled out two of the beskar ingots, identical to the ones that Din had received earlier. “...even I'm rich.” 

Din felt you lean forward and he put his hand out in a minute gesture to stop you. That beskar belonged with the tribe, with the Mandalorians. But he couldn’t take it from the man in such a crowded space full of deadly hunters. Apparently seeing the guild leader with it didn’t sit right with you either. 

“Now, how can I show my gratitude to my most valuable partner?” Karga smiled again and made his voice carry through the cantina, turning a few heads and earning another round of glares.

“I want my next job,” Din answered flatly and Karga chuckled.

“Next job?” He shook his head. “Take some time off. Enjoy yourself.” He stopped and gestured between the two of you with a grin and a suggestive wink. “Enjoy each other...I'll take you to the Twi'lek healing baths.”

“I want my next job,” Din repeated.

The other man threw his hands up in annoyance and sighed. “Sure. Fine. You hunters like to keep busy, right?” He reached into his pocket and placed a few bounty pucks on the table. “Well, these are all far away.”

“The further, the better,” Din mumbled and he tried to ignore the way you looked at him. He wanted off this marker forsaken planet. He wanted away from the Client and his troopers. He wanted to stop feeling like he might puke at any moment the more he thought about the Child. 

“Well, take your pick. You've earned it.”

Din inspected them carefully before tapping the top of one of the pucks and bringing up a hologram of a stranger. He slid the unwanted ones back towards the guild leader who put them all back in his pocket. 

“Ah... that's the best of the lot,” Karga praised. “A nobleman's son. Skipped bail. Looks like you're headed to the ocean dunes of Karnac.” His voice was wistful as if he was determined to make the Mandalorian take a vacation with his Omega, but Din wasn’t buying it.

He got up from the booth, handing the puck to you to put with your things. He held out his hand on instinct and let out a quiet breath as you took it, allowing him to help you get to your feet. There was just one more thing...

“Any idea what they're gonna do with it?” he tried to say nonchalantly over his shoulder.

“With what?”

“The kid.”

“I didn't ask. It's against the Guild Code,” Karga raised an eyebrow and looked up as Din faced him again.

“They work for the Empire. What are they doing here?” Din pressed.

“The Empire is gone, Mando,” he waved his hand. “All that are left are mercenaries and warlords. But if it bothers you, just go back to the Core and report them to the New Republic.”

Din scoffed, rolling his eyes under the helmet and shook his head. “That's a joke.”

“Mando,” he said, leaning forward as if he was about to give him a very important lecture. “Enjoy your rewards. Take your girl and get off this dusty rock.” He put his hand up to his mouth like he was telling a secret and grinned. “Buy a camtono of spice. By the time you come out of hyperdrive you will have forgotten all about it.”

\--

Din always wanted to leave after he received a new puck. A new puck meant a new job. A new job meant a new adventure. A new adventure meant...credits. For so long he had scraped by that it wasn’t often that he wasn’t thinking of money. The ship always needed repairs and fuel, and after buying the basic necessities to live off of, there was rarely anything left for much else. 

But this time, leaving didn’t feel as great as it usually did. 

He kept waiting for you to tell him you wanted to leave too. That you wanted him to drop you off on the next habitable planet and go your separate ways. But you didn’t. Why didn’t you? What was stopping you? You had been careful to keep your face infuriatingly blank since leaving the cantina. And you hadn’t said two words to him since leaving the Covert. It was driving him insane and it was then that he realized he would rather be arguing with you than not speaking at all. 

When you sat in the co-pilot’s chair and buckled in, he gave a sigh of relief. For now, at least, it seemed you intended on staying. 

“Karnac,” you said quietly. “Is it nice?” 

Din sat heavily in the pilot’s chair and hummed a short response. It was no different than any other planet. After a while, they all started to look the same. He also wasn’t certain if you genuinely wanted to know or, if like him, were hating the silence and forcing conversation. 

He flipped a row of buttons on the dash one at a time with a soft click and they all lit up green. He swivelled his chair and did the same to a row of levers as the ship started to come to life and the engines whined. Once everything was operational he turned his chair back to the middle and reached for the gear shift only to stop short. 

The metal ball that normally sat on the top of the metal lever was missing. 

“What is it?” you asked as you noticed his pause. 

Only a few short hours ago the kid had been content in your lap and playing with the object in question. It had to be here somewhere. He looked around and you joined him. You spotted it first where it had dropped onto the lower deck and you gingerly picked it up and held it out in offering. 

The Mandalorian looked at you and knew if he flew away now...you would never forgive him. And just as importantly, he would never forgive himself. He took the ball from you gently, brushing your fingertips with his own and stared at it. 

_Foundlings are the future._

_This is the way._

He screwed the ball onto the lever gently, as if he was worried he might break it. As soon as it was on, he cursed loudly under his breath and yanked the lever down. With hurried movements he jammed each button he had turned on moments ago back into their dormant positions as the Crest gave a jerk and powered down with a loud groan. 

“Din?”

He made quick work of the harness attached to his chair and you followed suit, mirroring him as he stood up and looked around. He grabbed his rifle from where it hung on the wall and slung it over his back just as you stood in front of the doorway, blocking his path. 

“Din, what’s going on?” you all but demanded and he looked down at you with a hammering heart. 

“You were right.” 

“What? I don’t understa--” you froze and he saw the realization in your beautifully clear eyes. “You’re going back for him.”

 _“We,_ ” he corrected. “Are going back for him.”

You lunged forward and he thought he was going to cease to exist right then. With your arms around his neck, you hugged him tightly. So incredibly tightly. His hands automatically went to your waist and your hair, thanking every deity that may have been listening that you were in his arms again. 

However, when you leaned back and put both hands on the side of his helmet, he felt his heart stop. Nothing you had done leading up to this moment had prepared him for the unexpected notion that you would take off his helmet without asking. He held his breath as tightly as he held you but you simply cupped his head in your hands and pressed a kiss to the front of the beskar where his mouth would be, had it not been there. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, fogging up the visor with your warm breath and a shiver traveled down his spine from his neck to his toes. As you released him to grab your staff and blaster, he smiled under the helmet and quickly brought up the rear.


	13. Doing What's Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Din go back for the Child. Perhaps this is what it really means to be mates, to be powerful single unit? The two of you get to really see one another in action for the first time since you fought one another on your home world--only this time, you’re fighting side by side.

The Mandalorian reached down and grabbed your forearm in a sturdy, vice-like grip as he helped you climb over the edge of the roof. You moved down onto your belly and looked at the building you had just been in while he adjusted the scope of his rifle and listened in on a conversation you couldn’t hear.

“It’s the doctor and the client,” Din said aloud for your benefit. “They’re talking about the kid.”

“Is he alive?”

“I think so.”

“Do you have a plan?” you asked, trying to keep the harshness of expectation out of your voice.

“I was kinda hoping you had one,” he mumbled and you couldn’t help the small grin that graced your lips. Whether or not it was on purpose, you stood by what you said--Din was secretly funny when he wanted to be.

“Don’t get killed and take out as many of those imperialist bastards as you can?” you offered and he chuckled.

“I like it.” He slung the rifle once again over his back when he was done watching the inside of the building. One at a time you jumped off of the roof and onto the awning of your vantage point before dropping quietly back onto the ground. “I’m going to knock on the door, and when I do, that camera should pop out. Destroying it will draw the guards outside. Then you go left, I go right.”

“I want to go right,” you said without hesitation and you didn’t have to see Din’s eyes to know he rolled them.

“Fine.” He glanced at your waist, making sure you had your blaster before moving forward. “Stubborn,” he muttered under his breath, but his tone was not the normal exasperated one that normally went with the word. No, it was something else, something new.

Din approached the door and you went to the right, pulling your staff and putting it in your dominant hand. With a firm knock, he rapped his knuckles against the solid metal door and just like before, the eyestalk of a camera shot out and blinked once. Before it could speak, Din grabbed it around the bulb and yanked it free of its connecting cords. _Fuck._ The strength it required to--focus. He tossed the camera into the dirt and the two of you split in opposite directions.

"Check the parameter," one of the troopers orders in a raspy, modulated voice. The other two nod and split up, each taking a different alleyway.

You stick to the shadows and alcoves of the building, slowly making your way around the back. Watching from a secluded corner, you see Din place a small disc on the outer wall and twist it, activating a series of red lights and beeps. He ducks behind the corner, pushing into your space as you hold your breath and wait for the explosion that's coming. Your shoulders jerk as the sound and spatter of concrete and dust is loud enough to startle even someone who was prepared. Like always, that Mandalorian at your side was unfazed.

"Stay close," he said and instead of voicing the sarcastic thought that danced on the tip of your tongue, you nodded.

Din took point, with his blaster ready, but still low enough to be held comfortably, he made his way through the hallways of crates like before. He checked each corner, each hallway entrance, every shadow, listening for movement and no doubt seeing things through his visor that you couldn't. He held up a fist and you stopped short, waiting a beat and trying to control your racing heart as a few more stormtroopers hustled by to investigate the commotion that you had caused.

The last door way at the end of the hall remained closed, marking it and your obvious target. You readjusted your grip on your staff and hurried to keep up with the man in front of you. He all but kicked in the door and when you heard the fearful voice of Dr. Pershing, you knew the child had to be close.

"No, no, no, no, please," the man stutters, looking at the two of you with wide eyes. "Please. No. No, no."

The room was small, hardly an adequate place for research, and filled with old and unused equipment. Much like the rest of the rest of the building, it looked like nothing more than a forgotten storage facility. The newest piece of machinery was an exam table, made of polished, dark, metal and buttons of all kinds down the side panel. What concerned you most was the restraints that sat at different intervals along the sides. More than likely, it was an exam table for unwilling participants.

Your throat grew tight as you looked down at the Child, unconscious and buckled into the contraption, helplessly at the mercy of whatever these people planned to subject him to. You grabbed at the edge of the metal band that held the child in place and you yanked on it. The image of his pram floating away from you as he cried, reaching out his tiny hand for you and Din, and the two of you had done nothing but watch it happen. This was your fault. If you had stopped them, if you had spoken up--if the child was hurt permanently then you would never forgive yourself.

A shot rang out as Din fired and disabled the floating droid above your head. The orb had many instruments and had been pointing a needle of some sorts at the child before you had blindly walked in front of it. You yelped as the sparks flew and the droid crashed to the ground. Din lowered his blaster and started to reach for you but the doctor spoke again.

"No, please. Please, don't hurt him," he continued to babble. "It's just a child. Please. No. No!"

"Hey--" you stopped yanking on the metal and touched the head of the infant, between his ears like he liked. Not knowing his name, you gave pause before continuing to stroke his ears and speak softly. "Hey, kid. Can you hear me?"

When nothing happened, the Mandalorian grabbed the man by the front of his white coat and slammed him up against the wall. "Please. No. No, no!"

"What did you do to it?" Din growled and you leaned heavily on the table.

"I…"

"What did you do to it?!" Din barked again and this time you grabbed the edge to keep yourself upright.

You had never felt him like this before. This unbridled anger that wafted off of him in waves and washed over you in a suffocating heat. You had felt him irritated plenty of times. Mad? Sure. But this, this was rage. You weren’t entirely sure you liked it along with the fact that he wasn’t controlling it. Was this how he felt around you?

You put your hand more firmly on the table by the child’s head and coughed. “Din…”

He glanced at you before easing his grip on the doctor ever so slightly. Once you could breathe a little easier, you got to work on the clasps that had the child locked in place.

“I... I protected him! I protected him!” Dr. Pershing continued to wail. “If it wasn't for me, he would already be dead! Please... please, please, please.” He whimpered even after the Mandalorian had released him.

You handed the Child off to him and the two of you hurried out the way you came, leaving the doctor on the ground with his fear and his life--which was more than he would probably receive once everyone else realized the child was missing. 

Din let you take point this time and you held your staff at the ready and swept the area of the hallway. A door opened and he ducked into a shadow with the child while you stood behind a tower of shipping boxes. Your heart hammered in your chest as you heard heavy boots enter the room, becoming louder as they approached your position.

“Look, there!” a trooper exclaimed as he pointed towards the open door way.

“Split up. We'll flush him out,” another one ordered.

“Give it up! There's no--” the first one started but as soon as he stepped up to your hiding spot you came around the corner and gave him a sweep of your staff, knocking his legs out from under him. Before he could get up, Din came out of the shadows and shot the man with his blaster, finishing what you had started.

“Hey! Stop!” the second one yelled and the Mandalorian turned and fired from the hip, shooting him too with expert precision.

“Go,” Din nodded. “Go--”

The two of you didn’t wait around as you hopped over the upturned supply boxes and down the hall. You had no idea where you were going. Everything looked the same, dusty and vacant, nothing was familiar from the first time the two of you were here. But as you took one turn after another using very little instinct and more dumb luck than anything else, Din followed closely behind.

“In here,” you said, finally noticing something you had seen before as you entered the big room that you had met the client in when you turned over the child. The door on the other side opened at the same time and four storm troopers entered. “Shit…”

“Freeze!”

“Don't move!”

“Hands up!”

“Drop the blaster!”

“Drop the staff!”

“Wait,” Din made his voice carry over the commotion. “What I'm holding is very valuable. Here..”

You looked at Din as he held out his arm and used his torso to shield the child from the guns currently pointed at him. Mirroring him, you slowly lowered your staff and watched as the Mandalorian crouched and set the child down on the ground. What was he doing? He couldn’t be giving up--not now. The two of you could absolutely take them. It was when he clenched his fist and balanced it on the ground that you saw the mechanisms on his bracer retract and reveal a handful of small missiles--the whistling birds from the armorer.

“Now turn and face me!” The trooper closest to the front ordered and Din stayed still. “Stand up!” he barked again and with a jerk of his wrist, Din deployed the whistling birds and they screeched through the room, hitting each armored man in the throat before exploding on impact. Each enemy dropped with a heavy, anticlimactic thud, no longer a threat to either of you.

You picked up your staff and swung it over your back, jogging to his side and holding out your arms. “My turn--you have the advantage once we’re out in the open.”

“Agreed,” Din nodded, handing you the child, careful not to jostle him too much as he kept his blaster drawn. “Let’s keep going--almost out.”

\--

You had come to the conclusion that your heart was always going to beat this hard. You ran beside Din, slightly behind him in an effort to give him the point that you promised. Looking side to side as you clutched the tiny bundle against your breasts, you looked for any signs of danger. The sun had long set and every shadow in the empty streets of the city seemed to take the shape of a person.

The Razor Crest was just around the corner. Getting there was as simple as running, and you could do that. You were so focused on putting on foot in front of the other that when Mando pulled up short you nearly collided with the back of his broad shoulders.

“Welcome back, Mando,” Greef Karga said, stepping out from the shadows and putting himself in your way. He flicked his blaster from Din’s chest to the ground. “Now, put the package down.”

“Step aside. We’re going to our ship.” Din’s back stiffened and he was careful to stay in front of you, but Karga wasn’t a fool and now matter how hidden you were it was obvious what you currently held.

“It’s a shame you got your girl mixed up in this--you should have taken me up on that offer of the healing baths--”

“Leave her out of this,” he snapped.

“Listen,” Karga continued, unfazed by Din’s tone. “You put the bounty down and perhaps I'll let you pass.”

Din shook his head. “The kid's coming with us.”

“If you truly care about the kid, then you put it on the speeder and we'll discuss terms,” Karga ordered. He was quickly losing patience, his partnership with the bounty hunter was the only reason he was even still standing.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Din asked.

“Because I'm your only hope.”

The sound of footsteps drew your attention to the alleyways and doorways around you. You put your hand on Din’s back, tugging slightly at his cloak, just enough to get his attention as multiple bounty hunters took up positions around you on all sides. People you recognized from the few sparse meetings you had had with Karga in the cantina all pointed their array of weapons at you and it was suddenly hard to breathe. There were too many of them. Too many for you and Din to take on your own.

Mando looked side to side, so slowly that if you weren’t looking, in the dark you may not have known that he had moved at all. He slowly reached back and when you looked down and saw his hand palm up, you took it gently. The moment he squeezed your hand you could breathe again.

Firing two shots straight into the dirt was enough of a distraction that he yanked you in front of him and shoved you in the direction of a speeder. You tumbled over the edge and landed on the floorboards hard with a grunt, careful to turn your body enough to not land on top of the child.

He hid with you behind the cargo boxes and fired a few distraction shots as blaster fire pinged and sparked all around you in different directions.

“Drive!” he yelled at the droid at the front of the vehicle. It gave a few beeps and shook its head in protest but when he pointed his gun at its head and repeated himself, the speeder gave a lurch forward.

Just as you picked up speed, a shot exploded the driving droid’s head and the speeder came to a crashing halt in a pile of smoke and tossed crates. You stayed down as Mando quietly put away his blaster and pulled the rifle off of his back and fed it through a gap in the boxes of your cover. The enemies on all sides of you collectively held their breath waiting for your next move now that your escape plan had been foiled once again.

With a practiced hand, Din squeezed the trigger and the rifle gave a loud metallic shing as the shot rang out and disintegrated one of the hunters. He turned the barrel of the rifle, took another breath and repeated the process-- _shing! Boom! Shing! Boom!_

His shots paused as the rest of the hunters took cover behind the buildings and whatever else they could find, not willing to risk his expert shot.

“That's one impressive weapon!” Karga shouted out from somewhere in the distance.

“Here's what I'm gonna do!” Din shouted back. “We’re gonna walk to our ship with the kid and you're gonna let it happen!” He glanced at you and tilted his helmet as if to ask if you were alright--maybe if you were ready for what he was proposing out loud? Either way, you gave him a nod and adjusted the kid in your arms.

“Nah... How about this,” Karga called. “ _WE_ take the kid, and if you try to stop us we kill you both and we strip your body for parts!”

You swallowed hard and looked down at the child still asleep in your arms. His soft, green features seemed almost peaceful and as if he could sense you and Din both looking at him, he opened his eyes. Those big, innocent, glassy brown eyes were exhausted, he was so tired and he closed them again, trusting the two of you enough to succumb to a restless sleep. It made your heart ache as the seconds ticked by and your window of escape continued to grow smaller.

“No!”

Din yelled, throwing his body over yours and spinning the rifle around to jab into the chest of another hunter that had been quietly approaching the speeder while the two of you were distracted. You yelped and put your hand on his chest, supporting his weight off of the child as you looked up at him.

An eruption of blaster fire surrounded the speeder again and Karga yelled louder, “Don’t hit the target!”

“You gotta get out of here,” he said and you started shaking your head in disagreement before he even finished his sentence.

“What happened the last time you told me that?” you snapped, thinking back to the fight with the mudhorn.

“I mean it!” he argued. “We tried and we failed. I’ll take the kid and turn myself in, but this isn’t your fault, this isn’t your fight--”

“Your fights are my fights now--so, you better get used to it! I’m. not. leaving.” You accentuated each word and stared into his visor with a thin lipped glare.

An explosion of gun fire could be heard overhead and you both looked up to see a handful of Mandalorians crest over the rooftops and start firing down on the bounty hunters. Their armored bodies and hovering jet packs were nothing short of impressive as they touched down and quickly cleared a path around the speeder.

You quickly recognized the huge outline of Paz Vizsla, the alpha you had met when visiting the armorer earlier today. He held the giant barrel of a machine gun, the trails of bullet casing exploding behind him as it smoked and sparked--a truly over the top display of his warrior prowess.

“Get outta here!” he yelled as he stopped shooting and looked back to you and Din. “We'll hold them off.” He nodded at you before looking pointedly at his armored brother. “Keep her safe!”

“You're going to have to relocate the covert,” Din started to argue, getting to his feet and hopping off of the speeder. He offered you his hand to follow suit as Paz nodded.

“This is the way.”

“This is the way.” Din returned the gesture and gently pushed you in front of him as you took off towards the Razor Crest at a run.

You ran up the ramp, still clutching the child, without looking back. Mando’s boots hit the ramp with heavy thuds signaling that he was right behind you. You hurried to the hatch and pulled the lever, lowering the ladder as you handed Din the child so you could use both hands.

“Hold it, Mando.”

Karga’s voice came from the shadows and you froze with your hand on the ladder that led up to the main dock. “You have got to be kidding me,” you groaned and looked back at the two men.

The guild leader had his blaster pointed at the bounty hunter and he grit his teeth slightly. “I didn't want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code.”

“Go,” Din said over his shoulder to you. “Start the ship. I’ll handle this.” His gloved hand stayed securely around the bundle as his other one twitched by his holster.

“I don’t know how--”

“You’ve seen me do it plenty of times,” he cut you off. “Get us out of here.” He kept his stance between you and Karga, knowing the other man wouldn’t risk hurting the asset just to shoot you in the back.

Cursing quietly, you climbed the ladder without another word. You trusted him. You had to trust him. What other choice did you have? He said he could handle it and you knew that he wouldn’t have come all this way just to hand the kid back over to the very people you just stole it from.

You breached the cockpit, scrambling into the pilot’s chair and looking at all of the buttons on the dashboard. There were dozens of knobs, levers, tabs, and gauges, all different colors and sizes. You could do this. You could do this. Din had faith in you.

Maybe muscle memory would help. Holding your hands over the dashboard, you took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly before reaching to the right and flipping up all of the switch buttons. They each turned green with your touch and you moved to the left to do the same to the smaller, silver tabs. The engines roared to life and you clapped your hands together once, “Yes!”

The cabin door hissed open and Din walked through triggering a wash of relief from your head to your toes. It shut firmly behind him and he held the kid out to you, switching seats quickly and buckling in.

“What happened to Karga?” you asked, moving the child to one arm to try to work the buckle with the other. Din reached over without you having to ask and snapped it closed.

“Taken care of.” Typical Mandalorian answer--short, sweet, and to the point. But if Din said he was taken care of, then you knew, one way or another, he was telling the truth. “I knew you could handle it,” he added with a gesture to the control panel before finishing what you started and getting the ship in the air.

The small bit of praise made you grin quietly to yourself as you felt a small proudness warm the center of your chest.

\--

“I gotta get one of those…” Din said quietly as you turned and looked out the window. One of the Mandalorians that had helped you escape the guild was flying alongside the crest via jet pack. He gave Din a salute before diverting off and disappearing among the clouds.

“If you get one,” you said, rolling your head to look at him as you leaned back in your chair. “I get one too.”

“Naturally.”

You leaned forward and placed the child on the floor as he started to wiggle, signaling that he was ready to get down. He clumsily made his way over to the dashboard and reached his hands in the air, causing his over-sized sleeves to fall down his tiny arms. Without even glancing down, Din slowly unscrewed the metal ball from the top of the gearshift and dropped it into the waiting hands. It made you smile.

Safe up among the clouds and shortly about to break the atmosphere, you suddenly realized that you were exhausted. Closing your eyes felt good and you sun into the chair and let your shoulders relax for the first time since you left Arvala-7.

By the time you opened your eyes, the black of space had engulfed the ship and the stars were slowly flying by. Din had vacated the pilot’s seat and you felt his presence close to you before you looked up and actually saw him. His hand was on the back of your chair and his helmet tilted as he realized you were awake.

“Where’s--” you started by stopped as you saw the child sitting in the window, clutching the silver top of the gear shift and looking out at the stars. You sat back against the seat and smiled up at the Mandalorian. “Hey. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“You weren’t out that long.” He glanced at the door then back to you and sighed. There was a tension in his body that you didn’t like, but you let him continue. “The ship’s on autopilot. I gotta step away for a minute.”

“Okay.”

“We--I mean,” he cleared his throat and gripped the back of your chair. “I’ll be right back.”

As he turned to go you reached out and snatched his hand, pausing briefly before pulling on it just enough to make him turn back around. He had every right to his trepidation. The last time you had been on the ship together, you had been furious at him, ready to throw in the towel so to speak. But now?

You pulled him down enough that he had to put his free hand on the arm rest just to keep from falling into your lap. You bit your lip gently before looking into his visor where you knew his eyes would be.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“For?”

“For doing what’s right.”

“I had help,” he mumbled and it made you grin.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded before glancing at the kid and then back to you. “I have a feeling a whole world of trouble is about to rain down on us.”

“We can handle it.”

“We?” he asked and you didn’t have to see his face to hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you nodded. You hooked your fingers on the edge of his beskar breastplate and pulled him down an inch from your face. “We.”

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked, his voice almost hoarse through the modulator. You wanted to hear it unobstructed, clear and deep against your skin.

“It’s a start.” When neither of you moved, you let your tongue dart out to moisten your lips. His quick intake of breath let you know he had seen you do it. You wanted to kiss him, to let him know with an easy action that you both were back on the right track. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

_“Cyar'ika...”_

“Just tilt it back.”

“What about the kid?” he said and his innocent concern made your heart flip flop against your ribs.

“He’s busy,” you laughed softly. “But I promise--I’ll keep my hands to myself…”

You closed your eyes and stayed still, leaving the next move entirely up to him. As much as you wanted to kiss him, you understood either way. The risks of doing something as simple as tilting his helmet back had to be daunting without the safety nets of a dark room or a blindfold over your eyes. A soft moan of content left you as he made his choice and you felt his mouth on yours. It was gentle. It was short. And it was over far too quickly.

The cabin doors hissed shut before you dared to open your eyes again. He was gone, but you rested your chin in your hand and watched the entrance with a smile and the knowledge that he would soon be back. 


	14. Center of Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Din continue to get closer as you refuse to let him use the only one bed as an excuse for not getting proper rest and you land on a prettier planet in hopes of starting fresh and stretching your legs. 
> 
> Sorry for the 5 week break. I was struggling hard core with all of my muses.

The Mandalorian assured you that he only had a few hours before he had to start working on the coordinates for wherever you were headed. And although it was less time than you would have preferred, the both of you needed some semblance of sleep before you collapsed. Sleeping upright in the chair in the cockpit was raging a war on your back and neck--it had to be doing the same to him as well, right?

Your eyes burned with the ache of being open for far too long. Your stomach clenched at the thought of being up any longer, or of asking your body to perform any more tasks, even if they were menial in nature. And for Din to agree so easily with your proposition of sleep, it confirmed your suspicions that even he wasn’t immune to the peril of going without rest. 

After tucking the kid into his pram, you had stripped down to your undershirt and climbed under the sorry excuse for a blanket that lay in a heap in the sardine-can that the bounty hunter called a bed. This was not a bed. A bed was soft and held you through the night. It was a place that kept you warm and absorbed your troubles; a place for dreaming and showing your aching body some kindness. No, this wasn’t a bed, this was a compartment that just happened to be used for sleeping. 

The light in both the compartment and the belly of the ship was shut off but you heard his heavy boots descend down the stairs and hesitate at the foot. You knew he was watching you, if you focused hard enough you could sense him, hear his breathing. He didn’t say anything, only started to walk away and you couldn’t have that. 

“Din…” you said, stopping him in his tracks. 

Without looking you held your hand out in his general direction and made a gabbing motion similar to a snapping claw. Apparently that was sufficient enough communication because he chuckled and started taking off pieces of his armor. You were too tired for anything else, but you reached out with more than your hand, allowing your meticulously built metaphysical wall to drop as you searched for his alpha. Like someone grabbing your hand in the dark and guiding you away from danger, he reciprocated the action, causing you to sigh in relief.

“You sure about this?”

“You’ve seen me naked--we can share a bed,” you mumbled into the pillow. 

“Well,” he paused. “It is _my_ bed.”

“Keep it up. I’ll rescind my invita- _TION_!” you squealed as he pinched your ass and you fell into a fit of giggles. 

The blanket lifted and you reached back for him, finding his thigh and noting the compression pants that he still wore were just as soft and warm as the rest of him. He was warm. His body molded to the back of yours and was a comforting weight against you. It brought you a peace you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Sleep was calling your name and when his arm came around your waist you couldn’t help but smile. That is until you stretched your legs and your bare feet came in contact with harsh leather.

“Are your boots still on?” you asked, not bothering to look over your shoulder in the complete darkness.

“Gotta be ready at a moment’s notice--”

“No, absolutely not, boots off,” you argued and he huffed, giving a small jerk of each of his legs followed by a _thud--thud._

“Better?” 

“Much.”

“If we get attacked in the middle of the night--”

“Then I won’t have any pants,” you shrugged. “The least you can do is protect us barefoot.” 

He gave another chuckle and nosed his face against the base of your neck. You couldn’t remember the last time you had fallen asleep so quickly, and honestly, neither could Din. 

\-- 

Like many things in his world, the Mandalorian approached fucking you with a careful precision. To him, there was no room for error, and you were determined to convince him otherwise. When it came to sex, error was half the fun--at least you thought so. Nothing compared to being so caught up in one other that a slip or a sound didn’t ruin the moment and a lover’s laugh was an infectious euphoria that made you want to keep going. You both had a lot to learn about each other, and your body was definitely at the top of the list.

Consciousness found you slowly as you felt the blanket lift and a calloused but gentle hand pulled your left thigh to the side before picking up your right. The final push to wake you up was the feeling of Din’s mouth coming in contact with your core--a soft kitten lick as he tested the waters and nosed at the coarse hair he found there. 

You gasped and put your hand on the back of his head and he froze like a child caught doing something wrong. 

"Is this okay?" He asked, voice already raspy with lust. 

"Yeah...yes, I just--" you laughed softly in the dark and softened your grip on his hair. "It was a surprise--a good surprise though." You quickly added and felt him relax again and lean in more. 

"I…" 

“Honest, you can keep going.”

“It’s not that,” he swallowed hard and reached up, taking your free hand and bringing it to his lips, to kiss your palm. " _Dank Farrik_."

"What's wrong?"

"It's stupid."

"Try me."

He leaned into your touch as you cupped his face and ghosted your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You moved down to the light bit of stubble that had started on his jaw and you wanted to know what it felt like between your legs. Goddess, you wished you could see him, you knew he was handsome, your heart and soul just _knew_ it. 

"I've never--I want to be good at this," he confessed. 

You bit your lip to keep any semblance of laughter or a smile out of your voice. It was an unexpected innocence from him that you never would have seen coming. However, this was serious. He meant it. Somewhere along the way, someone had made this incredible man feel less than adequate. The thought made you want to hunt them down--but that could wait until later. 

"Okay," you breathed, sinking down into the bed more. "Well, as the saying goes, practice makes perfect." 

He chuckled and leaned back down to nose at your inner thigh. “Then can I start now?”

“Yes,” you breathed and moved your hand from his face, back into his curls.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Kiss my thighs?” you offered and he moved his head back between your legs. He did as you asked, planting soft, slow kisses up your skin and leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. 

"You're so warm." He whispered, working his way higher. "And you smell so _fucking_ good." 

The way his voice faded into almost a growl made you shiver and start to close your legs, but he kept them open with his broad shoulders. You weren't used to this much attention, and the praise made your face hot--it was almost more overwhelming than what he was doing with his mouth. 

He kissed a trail up your thigh to your cunt, moving to the opposite leg to repeat the motion without claiming the prize. You gave his head a small push and he took the hint, turning his kisses into bites. He sucked a bruise to the tender flesh and the sound that fell from your mouth made him stop. 

“Too much?” he asked.

“No--no, you’re fine. It’s good,” you assured him, putting your hand over your face and trying to calm your already racing heart. “Right here, kiss right here.” You tapped your folds and he hesitated. 

“It’s dark, honey--I can’t see what you’re pointing too,” he chuckled again and you wanted to scream. You wanted more than anything to turn on the light and have him ravage you. 

“Here,” you repeated and fumbled for his hand. You took his index finger and guided it along your folds and gasped when you both reached your clit. “Right there.”

“There? Why didn’t you say so?” he teased. 

“You asked me to teach you and now you’re teasing me. You’re giving me whiplash, Din. I--oh!” 

He cut you off as he kissed the spot you asked him to. He let saliva pool in the front of his mouth before letting it drip onto your cunt and he spread it through your slit with his tongue. Your clit ached with the need to be touched. You felt it like an inpatient buzz that was desperate to be soothed or you thought you might go insane. But when you reached for it, he gently smacked your hand away and dove back in. His strong nose pressed against it and he rutted his face at your core before doing as you asked and sucking the tender bud into his mouth. 

“OH--shit!” you squealed as your stomach muscles contracted and you raised up off of the bed in a sit up. 

His head jerked back and his large hand was instantly at your side. “What? What is it? Did I--” his breathless voice was filled with concern and you reached down to seize his face between your hands and pull him up your body for a kiss. He grunted but braced his hands on the bed and allowed you to do it. 

“That was good--that was--goddess, Din,” you pant against him as he let your tongue inside his mouth. His lips tasted like your arousal and the idea of what he had just been doing made you moan against him. 

“I wasn’t done,” he protested quietly as he kissed you back. 

“I know, but kiss me.”

“I..wasn’t...let me... _Cyar'ika._.” he said each phrase in between short, desperate kisses and finally you let him pull away from your grasp and move back down between your legs. 

He was a quick learner. You arched your back and grabbed the thin excuse for a pillow behind you as he stuck his tongue inside of you. With each moan of encouragement he licked harder, sucked a little more firmly, and kissed every inch that he could reach. It was good. It was damn good, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Fingers,” you gasped into the darkness and he lifted his head. 

“What?”

“Put your fingers inside me, please--oh, please,” you begged and he moved beside you to obey. 

Din lay on his side and you hiked your leg up over his hip to give him more room to put his hand back between your legs. Your arms went around his neck and your mouth easily found his in the dark. Your fingers played in the ends of his hair as his parted your sensitive folds and pushed inside of you. You whimpered against his mouth and said something that sounded like an unintelligible plea. 

“Was it not good?” he asked and you were too blissed out to comprehend what he was asking. 

“What?”

“My mouth.”

“Oh,” you shook your head and pulled back to try and focus on the outline of his face. “No, oh--no it was wonderful--” your words cut off as the pads of his fingers stroked the top wall of your cunt and it nearly made your eyes cross. 

“Then what was it? Tell me the truth.”

The truth? What was the truth? That you weren’t used to being the object of such unbridled adoration? The truth was that feeling him worship you with his mouth was more than you wanted your Omega to experience. There was nowhere to hide with his face between your legs. You were it. The center of his universe. His beginning and his ending. The thought terrified you and even though you wanted to scream such love back to him in return, letting him continue felt like an unspoken agreement being formed into a more concrete pact--it felt like commitment. 

“I’m--” you started and you wanted to bury your face in his neck and hide like a child. “I’m not used to being the center of attention.” 

His fingers paused in their movements and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing to stroke you. “You should get used to it,” he said deeply as he nosed his face against your hair and said close to your ear. “Because I like the way you taste.”

“Din…” you breathed against his cheek as the heat grew behind your own. You bit your lip and closed your eyes as his fingers started their rhythm inside of you once again. The soft sounds of your own wetness paired with his gentle kisses and your occasional gasps soon filled the small bunk. It didn’t take much to be surrounded by Din, to be consumed by him. And it made you wonder if he felt the same about you.

\--

Another _‘click’_ resounded through the cockpit as the child leaned forward and pushed whatever button it could reach. He was fascinated by the colors and the textures of the different knobs and bobbles, and with each one he cooed and grinned with wide eyes. 

“Stop touching things,” the Mandalorian instructed flatly. 

The child turned and looked at him, tilting his head and ears to the side as the man reached over and reversed all of the buttons that the child had messed with. The tiny creature paused, looking at the dashboard, pondering silently as he glanced one more time at Din before he forcefully clicked another button and the ship gave a stuttering jolt. 

Din cursed quietly and reached over, fixing the button and scooping the child into his lap, tucking him in safely in the crook of his arm against his chest. At least there was nothing he could get into trouble with now that he was secured. Din checked over his shoulder, hoping you would be back any minute and could help him out with the tiny green scoundrel. 

With a sigh, he jabbed the screen to his left and pulled up a holographic star map. 

“Let's see…” he said, waiting for it to finish scanning the planet off in the distance. “Sorgan. Looks like there is no star port, no industrial centers, no population density.” He mentally checked off all of the big city accommodations in his mind. “A real backwater skug hole. Which means it's perfect for us.” 

The child cooed and both of them looked up as the cabin doors hissed open and you walked through. You smiled as the child squealed and lifted his arms in the air to greet you. You leaned on the back of the pilot chair and gave the child a gentle rub on the head as you stared through the front window of the ship at the wonderfully green planet that lay off in the distance.

“It’s beautiful,” you said quietly and Din turned his head to look at you.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve been stuck on this ship for too long,” he offered and you pushed his shoulder lightly. 

Maybe he was right. Being surrounded by the cold metal walls of the Razor Crest was definitely something you had to get used to. You had felt vaguely like a caged bird, withering away without the need to sing in the confines of the ship. You missed the sunlight on your skin and the soft grass between your toes. You missed the sound of running water and the way a summer breeze spoke through the trees. There was a chance that this planet wouldn’t be anything like that, but as you looked out at the rich colors of its surface, you had to hope. 

“Ready to lay low and stretch your legs for a couple of months, you little womp rat?” Din asked, looking back at the small thing in his lap. “Nobody's gonna find us here.”

You held the child comfortably in your lap once you were buckled into your co-pilot’s chair. The two of you watched through the glass as the ship breached the atmosphere and the engines roared before bringing you over the ever-closer land. The trees came into focus and your heart soared at the sight of so much green. Where there was green, there were forests. Where there were forests, there was life. It was a jarring contrast to Kuiil’s desert sands and you hugged the child to your chest in jubilation. 

Din touched down in the middle of the woods. His gloved hands carefully maneuvered the controls until the Crest came to rest in an open clearing, surrounded by dense foliage. You prematurely unbuckled your safety harness and the child cooed in excitement as you stood and placed him on the chair. 

“I thought you said this was a ‘backwater skug-hole’?” you asked as you grabbed your cloak off of the back of the chair and threw it around your shoulders. 

“It is.”

“Did you not see what I saw flying in??” you asked excitedly, gesturing out the window. “It’s beautiful!”

“We don’t know that,” Din cautioned, ever the careful and controlled voice of reason. “It could be dangerous. We should leave the kid here.” 

“By himself?”

“It’d be stupid of me to ask you to stay with him--I already know the answer to that,” he scoffed as he unbuckled himself and stood. The child turned his large ears up towards the two of you and Din gave him a pat on the head. “Now listen, we’re gonna go out there and we’re gonna look around. It shouldn't take too long.”

“Do you think he understands you?” you crossed your arms under your breasts and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“He understands some things--what else am I supposed to do?” Din shrugged and turned back to the kid. “Now,” Din pointed a gloved finger at him and tilted his helmet. “don't touch anything! I'll find us some lodging, then I'll come back for you.”

“ _A-roo?_ ” the child squeaked and tilted his head to mirror the mandalorian. 

“You...stay right...here,” Din said slowly and firmly as if speaking to someone with a hearing problem. “You _stay_.” He pointed to the floor of the ship. “Don't move. You understand?”

The child blinked up at him with wide, glassy eyes and you covered your mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Great,” Din stated with a tired sigh. A small sound escaped your lips and he turned to look at you. “What? What is it?”

“No. Nothing,” you shook your head and held your hands up in surrender. “You’re doing a _fantastic_ job.”

You didn’t have to see his eyes to know that he rolled them. You stepped to the side and let him lead the way to the main part of the ship and unlock the loading ramp. With loud metallic clangs, the ship groaned and slowly lowered the dock and opened to the outside world. It was just as gorgeous as you knew it would be. The forest was deep and smelled of fresh earth and pungent pine. It took everything you had not to drop to your knees and pick up clumps of the underbrush and feel it to make sure it was real. 

“Oh, maker,” you sighed. “I almost forgot what fresh air felt like. Are you sure we can’t bring the kid?”

“He’ll be safer on the--” Din started to argue but you both looked down at the sound of tiny feet against the metal floor panels. 

“ _A-roo?_ ” the child repeated from before and looked up, alternating his gaze between the both of you. 

Din gave a heavy sigh and shrugged. “Oh, what the hell...come on.” He pushed his own cloak over his shoulder and the child took careful steps behind him until they got to the actual ground.

“Din--wait,” you exclaimed as you scooped up the child.

Din turned and watched. “He can walk.”

“His legs are so small--he can’t keep up!” you laughed, hurrying past him and looking around. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you looked up to the sun and let it warm your face. “I told you it was beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Din responded quietly. “I guess it is.” He wasn’t looking at the woods, however, he was looking at you.


End file.
